I       NIGHT  THOUGHTS 


ON 


TL,     EATH,  AND  IM3I0R 


,    BY  EDWARD  YOUNG,  LL.  D,  ^  r^ 


V  TWO  VOLLMts. 


VOL.  L 


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PCBtlBHES  BT  RlCnARD  SCOT  I 

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J8J6. 


NIGHT  THOUGHTS 


ON 


FE,  DEATH,  jyD  IMMORTALITY 


CY  EDWARD  YOUNG,  LL.  D. 

IN  TWO    VOLUMES. 

VOL,  I. 

'«.«"«,»«**^,H'**n'*».i"*'  '     ■ 

NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED     BY    RICHARD    SCOTT. 
£Tt)  Pearl-Street. 

1816. 


J*.  Makks.  Pnkla . 


MEMOIRS 

OF 

DR.  EDWARD  YOUNG 


This  celebrated  and  excellent  writer  was  the  son 
of  Dr.  Edward  Young,  a  learned  and  eminent  di- 
vine, who  was  Dean  of  Sarura,  Fellow  of  Winches- 
ter College,  and  Rector  of  Uphani,  in  Hampshire. 
Our  author  was  born  atUpham,  in  the  year  1G31, 
and  had  his  education  at  Winchester  College,  till 
he  was  chosen  on  the  foundation  of  Xew  College, 
Oxford,  October  13,  1T03,  but  removed  in  Ies5 
than  a  year  to  Corpus  Chrlsti,  where  he  entered 
himself  a  Gentleman  Commoner. 

Archbishop  Tennison  put  him  into  a  law  fellow- 
ship in  1703,  in  the  college  of  All  Souls.  He  took 
the  degree  of  Bachelor  in  1714,  and  became  LL.  D. 
in  1719.  Hi?  tragedy  of  Busiris  came  out  the  same 
year  ;  the  Revenge  in  17'21 ;  the  Brothers  in  1723  ; 
and  soon  after  his  elegant  poem  of  the  Last  Day, 
which  engaged  the  greater  attention  for  being  writ- 
ten by  a  layman.  The  Force  of  Religion,  or  Van- 
quished Love,  a  poem,  also  gave  much  pleasure. 
These  works  procured   him  the  friendship  of  some 


4  MEMOIRS  OF 

among  the  nobility,  and  tbie  Patronage  of  the  Duke 
of  Wharton,  by  whom  he  was  induced  to  stand  a 
candidate  for  a  scat  in  pariiament  for  Cirencester, 
Lut  "without  success.  The  bias  of  his  mind  was 
strongly  turned  towards  divinity,  which  drew  him 
away  from  the  law,  before  he  had  begun  to  prac- 
tice. On  his  taking  orders,  he  was  appointed  chap- 
lain in  ordinary  to  George  II.  in  April,  1T28.  His 
first  work  in  his  new  character  was  a  vindication  of 
Providence,  published,  as  well  as  his  Estimate  of 
Human  Life,  in  quarto.  Soon  after,  in  1730,  hig 
college  presented  him  to  the  Rectory  of  Welwyn, 
in  Hertfordshire,  worth  300/.  per  annum,  besides 
the  lordship  of  the  manor  which  pertained  to  it.  He 
married  Lady  Betty  Lee,  widow  of  Col.  Lee,  in 
1731.  She  was  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Lichfield. 
By  her  he  had  a  son. 

Notwithstanding  the  high  estimation  in  which 
he  was  held,  his  faaiiliar  intercourse  with  many  of 
the  fir?t  rank,  his  being  a  great  favourite  of  Frede- 
ric Prince  of  Wales,  and  paying  a  pretty  constant 
attendance  at  court,  fee  never  rose  to  higher  prefer- 
ment, if,  however,  we  except  his  being  made  clerk 
of  the  closet  to  the  Princess  Dowager  of  Wales  in 
1761,  when  he  was  fourscore  years  of  age. 

His  fme  poem  of  the  Night  Thoughts,  it  is  well 
known,  was  occasioned  by  a  family  distress  i  the 
loss  of  his  wife  and  the  two  chihiren^  a  son  and  a 
daughter,  whom  she  had  by  her  first  husband  :  these 
all  died  within  a  short  time  of  each  other  in  1741. 
The  son-in-law  is  characterized  in  this  work  by  th« 
name  of  Philander,  ami  the  young  lady,  who  sunk 


DR.   KOWAfiD    TOITNC.  5 

into  a  decline  through  grief  for  the  loss  of  her  moth- 
er, by  that  of  Narcissa.  He  removed  her  in  hope  of 
her  deriving  benefit  from  a  warmer  cliinate.  to 
Montpelier,  in  the  south  of  France  ;  but  she  died 
soon  after  tiieir  arrival  in  tliat  city.  The  circum- 
stance of  his  being  obliged  to  bury  her  in  a  field  by 
night,  not  being  allowed  interment  in  achurch-yard, 
on  account  of  her  being  a  protestaat,  is  idelibly  re- 
corded in  Night  III.  of  this  divine  poem. 

He  was  upwards  of  eighty  when  he  wrote  hi.>  Con- 
jectures on  Original  Composition,  in  which  many 
beauties  appear,  notwithstanding  the  age  of  its  au- 
tlior ;  aad  Resignation,  his  last  poem,  coiUain3 
proofs  in  every  stanza,  that  it  was  not  written  with 
decayed  faculties.  He  died  at  the  parsonage-lioti.'^e, 
at  Welwyn,  April  12, 1765,  aged  eighty-four  years, 
and  was  buried  under  the  altar-piece  of  that  church, 
by  the  ?ide  of  hi?*  wife.  By  his  own  desire  he  v.as 
followed  by  all  the  poor  of  the  parish  without  any 
tolling  of  the  bells,  or  any  person  appearing  at  his 
funeral  in  mourning.  He  had  caused  all  his  manu- 
scripts to  be  destroyed  before  his  death.  He  left 
the  whole  of  his  fortune,  which  was  pretty  consid- 
erable, with  the  exception  of  a  few  legacies,  to  his 
»on,  !Mr.  Frederic  Young,  though  he  would  never 
gee  him  in  his  life-time,  owing  to  his  displeasure  at 
bis  imprudent  conduct  at  college,  for  which  he  had 
been  expelled. 

His  character  was  that  of  the  true  Christian  Di- 
vine ;  his  heart  was  in  his  profession.  It  is  report- 
ed, that  once  preaching  in  his  turn  at  St.  James's, 
and  being  unable  to  gain  attention,  he  sat  down 


()  MEMOIRS   OF 

and  burst  into  tears.  His  conversation  was  of  the 
same  nature  as  his  works,  and  shewed  a  solemn  cast 
of  thought  to  be  natural  to  him:  death,  futurity, 
judgment,  eternity,  were  his  common  topics.  "When 
at  home  in  the  country,  he  spent  many  hours  in  the 
day  walking  among  the  graves  in  the  church-yard. 
In  his  garden  he  had  an  alcove,  painted  as  if  with 
a  bench  to  repose  on  ;  on  approaching  near  enough 
to  discover  the  deception,  the  following  motto  was 
seen  : 

"  Invisibilia  non  decipiunt." 
'■''  The  unseen  tjjings  do  not  deceive  us." 

In  his  poem  of  the  Last  Day,  one  of  his  earliest 
works,  he  calls  his  muse  "  the  Melancholy  Maid, 

"  whom  dismal  scenes  dcli^lit, 
"  Frequent  at  tombs,  and  in  the  realms  of  night." 

Grafton  is  said  by  Spence  to  have  made  him  a  pre- 
sent of  a  human  skull,  with  a  candle  in  it,  to  serve 
him  for  a  lamp  ;  and  he  is  reported  to  have  used  it. 
Yet  he  promoted  an  assembly  and  bowling-green  in 
his  parish,  and  often  attended  them.  He  would  in- 
dulge in  occasional  sallies  of  wit,  of  which  his  well- 
known  epigram  on  Voltaire*  is  a  specimen;  but 
perhaps  there  was  more  of  indignation  than  pleasan- 
try In  it,  as  his  satire  was  ever  pointed  against  inde- 
cency and   Irreligion.     His   satires,  intituled   the 

*  "  Thou  art  so  witty,  profligate,  and  thin, 

"  Thoi!  seem'st  a  Milton  wiih  his  Death  and  Sin." 


DR.    EDWARD  YOUNG.  7 

Love  of  Fame,  or  the  Universal  Passion,  is  a  great 
performance.  The  shafts  of  his  wit  are  directed 
against  the  folly  of  being  devoted  to  the  fashion, 
and  aiming  to  appear  what  we  are  not.  We  meet 
here  with  smoothness  of  style,  pointed  sentences, 
solid  sentiments,  and  the  sharpness  of  resistless 
truth. 

The  Night  Thoughts  abound  in  the  most  exalted 
flights,  the  utmost  stretch  of  human  thought  which 
is  the  great  excellence  of  Young's  poetry.  "  In  his 
Night  Thoughts,''  says  a  great  critic,  ''  He  has  ex- 
hibited a  very  wide  display  of  original  poetry,  va- 
riegated with  deep  reflections  and  striking  allusions, 
a  wilderness  of  thought,  in  which  the  fertility  of  fan- 
cy scatters  flowers  of  every  hue  and  of  every  odour." 
It  must  be  allowed,  however,  that  many  of  these  fine 
thoughts  are  overcast  with  the  gloom  of  melancho- 
ly, so  as  to  have  an  eflect  rather  to  be  dreaded 
hy  minds  of  a  morbid  hue  :  they  paint  notwithstan- 
ding, with  the  most  lively  fancy,  the  feelings  of 
the  heart,  the  vanity  of  human  things,  its  fleeting 
honours  and  enjoyments,  and  contain  the  strongest 
«.rguments  in  support  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 


# 


THE 

COMPLAINT. 

wxvw 

NIGHT.  I. 

vwvw 


LIFE,  DEATH,  AND  IMMORTALITY. 


TO  THE    niGHT   HOXOTTRABLE    ARTHrR   ONSLOW, 
ESa.  SPEAKER  OE  THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMO^'S. 

Tir'd  Nature's  sweet  restorer,  balmy  Sleep  ! 
He,  like  the  world,  his  ready  visit  pays 
Where  fortune  smiles  ;  the  wretched  he  forsakes  : 
Swift  on  his  downy  pinions  flies  from  woe, 
And  lights  on  lids  unsully'd  with  a  tear. 

From  short  (as  usual)  and  disturb'd  repose 
I  wake :  how  happy  they  who  wake  no  niQV&W 
Yet  that  were  vain,  if  dreams  infest  tl-.e  grave. 
I  wake,  emerging  from  a  sea  of  dreams 
Tumultuous;  where  my  wreck 'd  desponding  thoH 
From  wave  to  wave  of  fancy'd  misery, 
At  random  drove,  her  helm  of  reason  lost, 
Tho\  now  restor'd,  His  only  change  of  pain, 
(A  bitter  change!)  severer  for  severe. 
The  day  too  short  for  my  di'Jtress;  and  night, 
Ev'n  in  the  zenith  of  her  dark  domain. 
Is  sunshine  to  the  colour  of  my  fate. 

Night,  sable  goddess  1  from  her  ebon  thron;- 
Tn  rayles?  majesty,  now  stretches  forth 
R 


10  THE  COMPLA.INT, 

Her  leaden  sceptre  o'er  a  slurub'ring  world. 
Silence  ho'»v  dead  !  and  darkness  how  profound  i 
T^or  eye,  nor  list'ning  ear  an  object  Gnds; 
Creation  sleeps.    'Tis  as  the  gen'ral  pulse 
Of  life  stood  still,  and  nature  made  a  pause ; 
An  awful  pause  !  prophetic  of  her  end. 
And  let  her  })rophecy  be  soon  fulfiil'd  : 
Fate  !  drop  the  curtain  ;  I  can  lofe  no  more. 

Silence  and  daikness,  solenm  sisters  !  twins 
From  ancient  Pvight,  who  nurse  the  tender  thou;:-. . 
To  reason,  and  on  reason  build  resolve, 
(That  column  of  true  majesty  in  man) 
Assist  me:  I  will  thank  you  in  the  grave  ; 
Tha  grave  your  kingdom :  there  this  frame  shall  fall 
A  victim  sacred  to  your  dreary  sbrine. 
."But  what  are  ye  ? 

Thou,  who  didst  put  to  flight 
Primeval  Silence,  when  the  morning  slars, 
Exulting,  shouted  o'er  the  rising  ball ; 
X>  Thou,  whose  word  from  solid  darkness  struck 
That  spark,  the  sun,  strike  wisdom  from  my  soul ; 
My  soul,  which  ilies  to  thee,  her  trust,  her  treasure, 
As  misers  to  their  gold^  while  others  rest. 

Thro'  this  opaque  of  nature  and  of  soul, 
This  double  night,  transmit  one  pitying  ray, 
To  lighten  and  to  cheer.     O  lead  my  mind, 
(A  mind  that  fain  would  wander  from  its  wo) 
I..ead  it  thro'  various  scenes  of  life  and  death. 
And  from  each  sgi^^^^tbe  noblest  truths  inspire 
'JSoT  less  inspire  ttiy  conduct  than  my  song  ; 
Teach  my  best  reasow^^ieason  ;  my  best  vviil 


nd  re^r 


Teach  rectitude;  and  15 my  firm  regolye 


ox  LIFE,  DEATH,  AXD  IIUMORTALITT.  fi 

"Wisdom  to  vreJ,  and  pay  her  long  arrear: 
IS'or  let  the  phial  of  thy  vengeance,  pour'd 
On  this  devoted  head,  be  pour'd  in  vain. 

The  bell  strikes  One.     We  take  no  note  of  time 
But  froai  its  loss :  to  give  it  then  a  tongue 
Is  uise  in  man.     As  if  an  angel  spoke, 
I  feel  the  solemn  sound.     If  beaitl  aright, 
It  is  the  knell  of  my  departed  hours. 
"Where  are  they  I  With  the  years  beyond  the  flood, 
It  is  the  signal  that  demands  despatch  ; 
How  much  i.?  to  be  done  ?  My  hopes  and  fears 
Start  up  alarm'd,  and  o'er  life's  narrow  verge 
Ijook  down — on  what  I  A  fathomless  abyss  ; 
A  dread  eternity  !  how  surely  mine  ! 
And  can  eternity  belong  to  rae, 
Poor  pensioner  on  the  bounties  of  an  hour  ? 

How  poor,  how  rich,  how  abject,  how  august. 
How  complicate,  how  wonderful,  is  man  ! 
How  passing  wonder  HE  who  made  him  such! 
"Who  center'd  in  our  make  such  strange  extremes  i- 
From  different  natures,  marvellousiy  mix'd, 
Connection  exquisite  of  stistant  worlds: 
Distinguish'd  link  in  being's  endless  chain  ! 
Midway  from  nothiiig  to  the  Deity  ! 
A  beai7j  etheiea!,  sully'd  and  absorpt  I 
Tbo'  sully'd  and  dishonour'd  still  divine  I 
Dim  miniature  of  greatness  absolute  ! 
An  heir  rf  c:!ory  !  a  frail  child  of  dust! 
Helples*  iuimortal  !  insect  infinite  I 
A  vvnrni  I  h  god  ! — T  treuible  at  myself, 
And  ih  'nyself  am  lost.     Aflfinine,  a  stranger, 
Thought  wanders  up  and  down,  surprised,  aghast, 


12  THE  COMPLAINT. 

.^nd  wontl'ring  at  her  own.     How  reason  rcc'. 
O  what  a  miracle  to  man  is  man, 
Triumphantly  distre?s'd  I  what  joy  1  what  dread  ; 
Alternately  transported  and  alarm'd  ! 
What  can  preserve  my  life  ?  or  what  destroy  ? 
An  angel's  arm  can't  snatch  me  from  the  grave  ; 
Legions  of  angels  can't  conGne  me  there. 

Tis  past  conjecture.     All  things  rise  in  proof. 
While  o'er  my  limbs  sleep's  soft  dominion  spread, 
What  tho'  my  soul  fantastic  measures  trod 
O'er  fairy  fields,  or  mourn'd  along  the  gloom 
Of  pathless  woods,  or  down  tliR  craggy  steep 
Hurl'd  headlong,  swam  with  pain  the  mantled  poo), 
Or  scal'd  the  cliff,  or  danc'd  on  hollow  winds 
With  antic  shapes,  wild  natives  of  the  brain  ? 
Her  ceaseless  flight,  tho'  devious,  speaks  her  naturt 
Of  subtler  essence  than  the  trodden  clod, 
Active  aerial,  tow'ring,  unconfin'd, 
Unfetter'd  with  her  gross  companion's  fall. 
Ev'n  gilent  night  proclaims  my  soul  immortal; 
Ev'n  silent  night  proclaims  eternal  day. 
For  human  weal  heav'n  husbands  all  events: 
Dull  sleep  instructs,  nor  sport  vain  dreams  in  vain. 

Why  then  their  loss  deplore  that  are -not  lost : 
Why  wanders  wretched  Thought  their  tombs  around 
In  infidel  distress?  Are  angels  there? 
^Slumbers,  rak'd  up  in  dust,  ethereal  fire? 

They  live?  they  greatly  live  a  life  on  earth 
Unkindled,  unconceiv'd,  and  from  an  eye 
Of  tenderness,  let  heav'nly  pity  fall 
On  rae  more  justly  number'd  with  the  dead. 
This  is  the  dcseit,  this  the  solitude: 


ON  LIFE,  DEATH,  AND  13IM011TALTTT,        IS- 

How  populou?,  how  vital  is  the  grave  I 
This  is  creation's  melancholy  vault, 
The  vale  funeral,  the  sad  cypress  ti;loora  I 
The  land  of  appariti.ms,  empty  siiades! 
All,  all  on  earth  is  shadow,  ali  beyond 
Is  substance  :  the  reverse  is  folly's  creed  : 
How  solid  all  Vv'here  change  shall  be  no  more  I 

This  is  the  byd  of  being,  the  dim  dawn, 
The  tu'ilight  of  our  day,  the  vestibule. 
Life's  theatre  as  yet  is  shut,  and  Death, 
Strong  Death,  alone  can  heave  the  massy  lar, 
This  gross  impediment  of  clay  remove, 
And  make  us  embryos  of  existence  free, 
From  rsal  life,  but  little  more  remote 
Is  he,  not  yet  a  candidate  for  light. 
The  future  embryo,  slurab'ring  i:i  his  sire, 
Embryos  we  must  be  till  we  ijurst  the  shell. 
Yon  ambient  azure  shell,  and  spring  to  life, 
The  life  of  Gods  (O  transport  I;  and  of  man. 

Yet  man,  fool  man!  here  buries  all  his  thoughts; 
Inters  celestial  hopes  without  one  sigh. 
Prisoner  of  earth,  and  peat  beneath  the  moon. 
Here  pinions  all  his  wishes ;  wiiig'd  hy  Heav'a 
To  fly  at  infinite,  and  reach  it  there, 
Where  seraphs  gather  immortality, 
On  life's  fair  tree,  fast  by  the  throne  uf  God. 
What  golden  ji-ys  ambrosial  clust'ring  glow 
In  his  full  beam,  and  ripen  for  the  ju>t, 
Where  momentary  ages  are  no  mure  ! 
Where  Time,  and  Pain,  and  Chance,  and  Death  ex- 
pire ! 
And  is  it  in  the  flight  of  threescore  years 
To  push  eternity  from  human  thought, 


14  THE   COMPLAINT. 

And  smother  souls  immortal  in  the  dust  f 
A  soul  immortal,  spending  all  her  fires, 
Wasting  her  strength  in  strenuous  idleness. 
Thrown  intotumult,  raptur'd  or  alarm'd, 
At  aught  this  scene  can  threaten  or  indulge, 
Resembles  ocean  into  temptest  wrought, 
To  \vt\ft  a  feather,  or  to  drown  a  fiy. 

AVhere  falls  this  censure  ?  It  o'erwhelras  myself. 
How  was  my  heart  incrusted  by  the  world! 
O  how  self-fetter'd  was  ray  grov'iing  soul ! 
Ho>v,  like  a  worm,  was  I  wrapt  round  and  round 
In  silken  thought,  which  reptile  Fancy  spun. 
Till  darkened  reason  lay  quite  clouded  o'er 
With  soft  conr.eit  of  endlets  comfort  here, 
Nor  yet  put  fortli  her  wings  to  reach  the  skies! 

Night  visions  may  befriend  (as  sung  above :) 
Our  waking  dreams  are  fatal.     How  I  dreamt 
Of  things  impossible!  (could  sleep  no  more!) 
Of  joys  perpetual  in  perpetual  change! 
Of  stable  pleasures  on  the  tossing  wave! 
Eternal  sun«hine  in  the  storms  of  life! 
How  richly  were  my  n  ;ontide  trances  hung 
"With  georgeous  tapestriws  of  pictured  joys! 
Joy  behind  joy,  in  endless  perspective! 
Till  at  Death's  toll,  whose  restless  iron  tongue 
Calls  daily  for  his  millions  at  a  meal, 
Starting  I  woke,  and  found  myself  undone. 
Where  now  my  frenzy's  pompous  furniture? 
The  cobwebb'd  cottage  with  its  ragged  wall 
Of  mould'ring  mud,  is  royalty  to  me! 
The  spiders  most  attenuated  thread 
Is  «ord,  is  cable,  to  man's  tender  tie 
No  earthly  bliss  :  it  breaks  at  every  breeze. 


ON  LIl'E,  DEATH,  AND  IMMORTALITY.        15 

O  ye  blest  scenes  of  permanent  delight ! 
Full  above  measure  I  lasting  beyond  bound  I 
A  perpetuity  of  bl'ss  is  bliss. 
Could  you,  so  rich  in  rapture,  fear  an  end, 
That  ghastly  thought  would  drink  up  all  your  joy, 
And  quite  unparadise  the  realms  of  light. 
Safe  are  you  lodg'd  above  these  rolling  spheres  ; 
The  baleful  influence  of  whose  giddy  dance 
Shed  sad  vicissitude  on  all  beneath. 
Here  teems  with  revolutioRS  ev'ry  houp, 
And  rarely  for  the  better  ;  or  the  best 
More  mortal  than  the  common  births  of  Fate. 
Each  moment  has  its  sickle,  emulous 
Of  Time's  enormous  scythe,  whose  ample  sweep 
Strikes  empires  from  the  root :  each  moment  plays 
His  little  weapon  in  the  narrower  sphere 
Of  sweet  domestic  comfort,  and  cuts  down 
The  iairef-t  feloom  of  sublunary  bliss. 

BiiBs!  sublunary  bliss  I — proud  words,  and  vain! 
Implicit  treason  to  divine  decree! 
A  bold  invasion  of  the  rights  of  Heaven  I 
I  clasp'd  the  phantoms,  and  I  found  them  air. 
O  had  I  weigh'd  it  ere  my  fond  embrace  I 
What  darts  of  agony  had  miss'd  my  heart! 

Death!  great  proprietor  of  all !  His  thine 
To  tread  out  empire,  and  to  quench  the  star.'=. 
The  sun  himself  by  thy  permission  shines. 
And,  one  day,  thou  shalt  pluck  him  from  his  sphere. 
Amidst  such  mighty  plunder,  why  exhr\nst 
Thy  partial  quiver  on  a  mark  so  mean  ? 
Why  thy  peculiar  rancour  wrc-ak'd  on  me  ? 


18  THE   COMPLAINT. 

Insatiate  Archer  I  could  not  one  suffice? 
Thy  shaft  tlew  thrice,  and  thrice  my  peace  was  slain  ^ 
And  thiice,  ere  thrice  yon  moon  had  flU'd  her  horn«. 
Oh  Cynthia  !  why  so  pale?  dost  shou  lament 
Thy  wretched  nei}i;hbour  ?  grieve  to  «;ee  thy  wheel 
Of  ceaseless  change  outwhirl'd  in  human  life  ? 
How  wanes  my  borrow 'd  Ijliss  !  from  Fortune's  smile, 
Precarious  courtesy  I  not  virtue's  sure, 
Self-given,  solar,  ray  of  sound  delight. 

In  ev'ry  vary'd  posture,  place,  and  hour. 
How  widow'd  ev'ry  thought  of  ev'ry  joy  1 
Thought,  busy  thought !  too  busy  for  my  peace  I 
'Thro  the  dark  postern  of  time  long  elaps'd, 
lied  softly,  by  the  stillness  of  the  night, 
Led,  like  a  murderer  (and  such  it  proves  !) 
Strays  (wretched  rover  !)  o'er  the  pleasing  past : 
In  quest  of  wretchedness  perversely  strays ; 
And  finds  all  desert  now  ;  and  meets  the  ghosts 
Of  my  departed  joys,  a  num'rous  train  ! 
i  rue  the  riches  of  my  former  fate ; 
Sweet  comfort's  blasted  clusters  I  lament ; 
I  tremble  at  the  blessings  once  so  dear, 
And  ev'ry  pleasure  pains  me  to  the  heart. 

Yet  why  complain  ?  or  why  complain  for  one  ? 
Hangs  out  the  sun  his  lustre  but  for  me. 
The  single  man  ?  are  angels  all  beside  ? 
I  mourn  for  millions  ;  'tis  the  common  lot ; 
In  this  shape  or  in  that  has  Fate  entail'd 
The  mother's  throes  on  all  of  woman  born, 
Not  more  the  children  than  sure  heirs  of  pain. 

War,  famine,  pest,  vokano,  storm  and  fire, 
Intestine  broils,  Oppression,  with  her  heart 


ox  LIFE,  KEATH,  AND  IMMOKTALITr.        17 

Wiapt  up  in  triple  brass,  besiege  mankind. 

God's  Image,  disinherited  of  day, 

Here,  plung'd  in  mines,  forgets  a  sun  was  made  ? 

There,  beings,  deathless  as  their  haughty  lord, 

Are  hammer'd  to  the  galling  oar  for  life  ; 

And  plough  the  winter^s  wave,  and- reap  despair. 

Some  for  hard  masters,  broken  under  arms, 

In  battle  lopp'd  away,  with  half  their  limbs, 

Beg  bitter  bread  thro'  realms  their  valour  sav'u. 

If  so  the  tyrant,  or  his  minion  doom. 

Want,  and  incurable  disease  (fell  pair  !)■ 

On  hopeless  multitudes  remorseless  seize 

At  once,  and  make  a  refuge  of  the  grave. 

How  groaning  hospitals  eject  their  dead  I 

AVhat  numbers  groHn  for  sad  admission  there  I 

"What  numbers,  once  in  Fortune's  lap  high  fed, 

Solicit  the  cold  hand  of  charity  I 

To  shock  us  more,  solicit  it  in  vain  ! 

Ye  silken  sons  of  Pleasure  !  since  in  pains 

You  rue  more  modish  visits,  visit  here, 

And  breathe  from  your  debauch ;  give,  and  reduce 

Surfeit's  dominion  o'er  you.     But  so  great 

Your  impudence,  you  blush  at  what  is  right* 

Happy  !  did  sorrow  seize  on  such  alone, 
Not  prudence  can  defend,  or  virtue  save ; 
Disease  invades  the  chatest  temperance, 
And  punishment  the  guiltless;  and  alarm. 
Thro'  thickest  shades,  pursues  tne  fond  of  peace. 
Man's  caution  often  into  danger  turns. 
And,  his  guard  failing,  crushes  him  to  death, 
Nothappiness  itself  makes  good  her  naiuej 
Our  very  wishes  give  us  notour  wisli^ 
B2 


18  THE   COMrLAIXT. 

How  distant  oft  the  thing  we  doat  on  most 

From  that  for  which  we  doat,  felicity  ! 

The  smoothest  course  of  Nature  has  its  pains, 

And  truest  friends,  thro'  error,  wound  our  rest. 

AVithout  misfortune  what  calamities! 

And  what  hostilities  without  a  foe  I 

Nor  are  foes  wanting  to  the  best  on  earth. 

But  endless  is  the  list  of  human  ills. 

And  sighs  might  sooner  fail  than  cause  to  sigh. 

A  part  how  small  of  the  terraqueous  globe 
Is  tenanted  by  man  ?  the  rest  a  waste  ; 
-Rocks,  deserts,  frozen  seas,  and  burning  sands! 
Wild  haunts  of  monsters,  poisons,  stings,  and  death. 
Such  is  earth's  melancholy  map  !  but  far 
More  sad  !  ihh  earth  is  a  true  map  of  man ; 
So  bounded  are  its  haughty  lord's  delights 
To  woe's  wide  empire,  where  deep  troubles  toss, 
Xioud  sorrows  howl,  envenom'd  passions  bite, 
Jlav'nons  calamities  our  vitals  seize. 
And  threat'ning  Fate  wide  opens  to  devour. 

lYhat  then  am  I,  who  sorrow  for  myself? 
In  age,  in  infancy,  from  other's  aid 
Is  all  our  hope ;  to  teach  us  to  be  kind, 
That  Nature's  first,  last  lesson  to  mankind  ; 
The  selfish  heart  deserves  the  pain  it  feels ; 
More  gen'rous  sorrow,  while  it  sinks,  exalts; 
And  conscious  virtue  mitigates  the  pang. 
Nor  virtue  more  than  prudence  bids  me  give 
Swoln  thought  a  second  channel;  who  divide, 
They  weaken,  too,  the  torrent  of  their  grief. 
Take,  then,  O  world  1  thy  much  indebted  tear  ; 
•How  sad  a  sight  is  human  happiness 


ox  LIFE,  DEATH,  AND  IMlIORTiVLITY .        la 

To  those  whose  thought  <;an  pierce  beyond  an  hour  1 

0  thou  !  whate'ei-  thou  art,  vvhn?e  heart  exults  I 
Woukht  thou  I  should  congratulate  thy  fate  ? 

1  know  thou  woiildst ;  thy  pride  demands  it  from  me 
Let  thy  pride  pardon  what  thy  nature  needs, 
The  salutary  censure  of  a  friend. 

Thou  happy  wretch  I  by  blindness  thou  art  blast  ; 
TJy  dotage  dandled  to  perpetual  smiles, 
I^^now,  Siuiler!  at  thy  peril  art  thou  pleas'd, 
Thy  pleasure  is  the  promise  of  thy  pain. 
Misfortune  like  a  creditor  severe. 
But  rises  inueraand  for  her  delay  ; 
She  makes  a  scourge  of  past  prosperity. 
To  sting  thee  more  and  double  thy  diiires.". 

Lorenzo,  Fortune  makes  her  court  to  tlir-c: 
Thy  fond  heart  dances  while  the  Syren  singy. 
Dear  is  thy  welfare ;  think  me  not  unkind  : 
I  would  not  damp,  but  to  secure  thy  joys, 
Think  not  that  fear  is  sacred  to  the  storm; 
Stand  on  thy  guard  against  the  smiles  of  Fate. 
Is  Heav'n  tremendous  in  its  frowns?  most  sure  ; 
And  in  its  favours  formidable  too  : 
Its  favom*s  here  are  trials,  not  rewards ; 
A  call  to  duty,  not  discharge  from  care, 
And  should  alarm  us  full  as  much  as  woes: 
Awake  us  to  their  cause  and  consequence, 
Ar.d  make  us  tremble,  wcig'd  with  our  dejert ; 
Aue  natur's  tumult,  and  chastise  her  joy.'.-, 
Lest  while  we  clasp,  we  kill  them  ;  nay,  invert 
To  worse  than  simple  misery  their  charms. 
Revolted  joys,  like  foes  in  civil  war, 
Like  bosoaj  fiiend?;hins  to  resculment  sour'il 


20  THE    COMPLAINT. 

"With  rage  envenoin'd  rise  against  our  peace. 
Beware  what  earth  oalls  happiness  !  beware 
All  joys  but  joys  that  never  can  expire. 
Who  builils  on  less  than  an  immortal  base, 
Fond  as  he  seem?,  condemns  his  joys  to  death. 

Mincdy'd  with  thee,  Philander  I  thy  last  sig,h 
Dissolv'd  the  charm  ;   the  disinciianted  earth 
T.ost  all  her  lustre.     Where  her  glitt'ring  tow'rs  ? 
Iter  golden  mountains  were  ?  all  darken'd  dowa 
To  naked  waste;  a  dreary  vale  of  tears  ; 
The  great  magician's  dead  I  Thou  poor  pale  piece 
Of  outcast  earth,  in  darkness  !  what  a  change 
From  ycpterday  !  Thy  darling  hope  so  near, 
(Long-laboured  prize  I)  O  how  ambition  flush'd 
Thy  glowing  cheek  ?  ambition,  truly  great, 
Of  virtuous  praise.     Death's  subtle  seed  within, 
(Sly,  treach'rous  miner  !)  working  in  the  dark, 
Smil'd  at  thy  well-concerted  scheme,  and  bcckon'J 
The  worm  to  riot  on  that  rose  so  red, 
Unfaded  ere  it  fell  ;  one  moment's  prey  ! 

Man's  foresight  is  conditionally  wise  ; 
Lorenzo  I  wisdom  into  folly  turn« 
Oft  the  first  in-^tant  its  idea  fair 
To  labouring  thought  is  born.     How  dim  our  eye  ! 
'ihe  present  moment  terminates  our  sight ; 
Clouds,thick  as  those  on  Doomsday, drown  the  next; 
"We  penetrate,  we  prophesy  in  vain. 
Time  is  dealt  out  by  particles,  and  each 
Ere  mingled  with  the  streaming  sands  of  life, 
Ey  Fate's  inviolable  oath  is  swof  n 
Deep  silence,  '*  Where  eternity  begins." 

Bv  Nature's  law,  what  may  be,  mav  be  now  ; 


ox  LIFE,  DEA.TH,  AXD  I31M0RTAI.I T V.      21 

There's  no  prerogative  in  human  hour?. 

In  human  hearts  what  bolder  thoughts  can  rise 

Than  man's  presumption  on  to-morrow's  dawn  ? 

"Where  Is  to-morrow  ?  In  another  world. 

For  numbers  this  is  certain  :  the  reverse 

Is  sure  to  none  ;   and  yet  on  this  Perhap?, 

This  Peradventure,  infamous  for  lies, 

As  on  a  rock  of  adamant  we  build 

Our  mountain-hopes,  spin  out  etern?!  schcnies, 

As  we  the  fatal  sisters  could  out-spin, 

And,  big  with  life's  futurities,  expire. 

Notev'n  Philander  had  bespoke  bis  shroud, 
Nor  had  he  cause  ;  a  warning  was  deny'd  ; 
How  many  fall  as  sudden  not  as  safe  ; 
As  fudden,  tho'  for  years  admoni«;h'd  home  i 
Of  human  ills  the  last  extreme  beware  ; 
Beware,  Lorenzo  I  a  slow  sudden  death, 
How  dreadful  that  deliberate  surprise  ; 
Ee  wise  to-day  'tis  m»'ness  to  defer  : 
Next  day  the  fatal  precedent  wiil  plead  ; 
Thus  on  till  wisdom  is  push'd  cut  of  lifv?. 
Procrastination  is  the  thief  of  time  ; 
Year  after  year  it  steals    till  all  are  fled, 
And  to  the  mercies  of  a  moment,  leaves 
The  vast  coucerns  of  an  pternal  scene. 
If  not  so  frequent,  would  not  this  be  strange  ? 
That  'tis  so  frequent,  this  is  stranger  still. 

Of  inau's  miracuiou?  mistakes  this  bear? 
The  palm,  "  That  all  men  are  about  to  live,'* 
For  ever  on  the  brink  of  being  born. 
All  pay  tiiemselves  the  compliment  to  think 
They  one  day  shall  not  drivel,  and  their  pridf 


22-  THE    COMPIiAIXT. 

On  this  reversion  takes  up  ready  praise  ; 

At  least  their  own;  thfir  future  selves  applauds; 

Hov,'  excellent  that  life  they  ne'er  will  lead  ! 

Time  ImI^M  in  their  own  hands  is  Folly's  vails; 

That  lod^'d  in  Faie's,  to  wisdom  they  consign  ; 

The  thing  they  can't  but  purpose  they  postpone; 

>Tis  not  in  folly  not  to  scorn  a  fool ; 

And  scarce  in  human  wisdom  to  do  more. 

All  promise  is  poor  dilatory  man, 

And  that  thro'  every  stage;  AVhen  young  indeed^ 

In  full  content  we  sometiiiies  uobly  rest, 

Unanxious  for  ourselves,  and  only  wish. 

As  duteous  sons,  our  fathers  were  more  wise* 

At  thirty,  man  suspects  himself^  fool ; 

Knows  it  at  f.)rty,  and  reforms  his  plan.; 

At  fifty  chide?  his  infamous  delay 

Pushes  his  prudent  purpose  to  resolve  ; 

In  all  the  magnanimity  of  thought 

Resolves  and  re-resolves  ;  then  dies  the  same. 

And  why  ?  because  he  thinks  hituself  immortal. 
All  men  think  all  men  mortal  but  themselves  ; 
Themselves,  when  some  alarming  shock  of  Fate 
Strikes  thro'  their  wounded  hearts  the  sudden  dread; 
But  their  hearts  wounded,  like  the  wounded  air, 
Soon  close;  where  past  the  shaft  no  trace  is  found, 
As  from  the  wing  no  scar  the  sky  retains, 
The  parted  wave  no  furrow  fro;n  the  keel, 
So  dies  in  human  hearts  the  thoughts  of  death. 
E'en  with  the  tender  tear,  which  Nature  sheds 
O'er  those  we  lo\e,  we  drop  it  in  their  grave. 
Can  I  forget  Philander?  that  were  strange  ! 
O  my  full  heart ! — But  should  I  give  it  vent, 


ox  LIFE,  33EATH,  AND  IM3IOBTALITT.        23 

The  longest  night,  tho'  longer  far,  would  fail, 
And  the  lark  liste'n  to  my  midnight  song. 

The  sprightly  lark's  shrill  matin  wakes  the  morn; 
Grief's  sharpest  thorn  hard  pressing  on  my  breast, 
I  strive,  with  wakeful  melody,  to  cheer 
The  sullen  gloom,  sweet  Philomel  I  like  thee, 
And  call  the  stars  to  listen  ;  ev'ry  star 
Is  deaf  to  mine,  enamour'd  of  thy  lay. 
Yet  be  not  vain  ;  there  are  who  thine  excel, 
And  charm  through  distant  ages.     Wrapt  in  shade, 
Prisoner  of  darkness  I  to  the  silent  h<nu-3 
How  often  I  repeat  their  rage  divine, 
To  lull  my  griefs,  and  steel  ray  heart  from  woe  I 
I  roll  their  raptures,  but  not  catch  their  fire. 
Dark,  tho'  not  blind,  like  thee.  Masonide*! 
Or,  Milton,  thee  I  Ah,  could  I  reach  your  strain! 
Or  his  whf)  made  Ma^onides  our  own. 
IVlan,  too  he  sung;  immortal  man  I  sing. 
Oft  bursts  my  song  beyond  the  bounds  of  life; 
"What  now  but  immortality  can  {(lease  ? 
O  had  h^  prese'd  his  theme,  pursuM  the  track 
"Which  opens  out  of  darkness  into  day  ! 
O  had  he  mounted  on  his  wing  of  fire, 
Soar'd  where  I  sink,  and  sung  immortal  man! 
How  had  it  blest  mankind,  and  rescu'd  me  ' 


TOE 

COMPLAINT. 
NIGHT  II. 

vwvw 


ON  TIME,  DEATH,  AND  FRIENDSHIP. 


TO  THE  EIGHT  HOrCOURABLE  THE  EARL  OE 
WILMINGTON. 

When  the  cock  crew  be  wept, — sinotebythat  eye 
Which  looks  on  me,  on  all ;  that  pow'r  who  bids 
This  midnight  centinel,  with  clarion  shrill, 
(Emblem  of  that  which  shall  awake  the  dead) 
Rouse  souls  from  sltsmber  into  thoughts  of  lleav'n, 
Shall  I  too  weep?  where  then  is  fortitude? 
And  fortitude  abandon'd,  where  is  man  ? 
I  know  the  terms  ois  which  he  sees  the  light : 
He  that  is  born  is  listed  ;  life  is  war  ; 
Eter::ial  war  with  woe  :  who  bears  it  best 
Deperveg  it  least. — On  other  themes  I'll  dwell. 
X4  renzo  !  let  me  turn  my  thouuhts  on  thee  ; 
And  thine,  on  themee  may  profit ;  profit  there 
Where  most  thy  need.    Themes,  too,  the  genuine 

growth 
Of  dear  Philander's  dust.     He  thus,  tho*  dead, 
XI«y  still  befriend — What  themes?  Timt'.s  wond* 

rous  price. 
Death,  friendship,  and  Philander's  final  scene  ? 


ox  TIME,    DEATH,    AND  FRIENDSHIP,        25 

go  could  I  touch  theee  themes  as  might  obtain 
Thine  ear,  nor  leave  thy  heart  quite  disengag'd, 
The  good  deed  would  delight  me  ;  half  iin^^ress 
On  my  dark  cloud  an  Iris,  and  from  grief 
Call  glory. — Dost  thou  mourn  Philander'.*  fate  ; 
I  know  thou  say'st  it:  says  thy  life  the  tame? 
He  ii:ourns  the  dead,  who  lives  as  thy  desire. 
Where  is  that  thirst,  that  avarice  of  time, 
(O  glorious  avarice  1)  thought  of  death  inspires, 
As  rumour'd  robberies  endear  our  gold! 
O  Time  I    than  gold  more  sacred,  more  a  load 
Than  lead  to  fools,  and  fools  reputed  wise. 
"What  moment  granted  man  without  account? 
"What  years  are  sqander'd,  wisdom's  debt  unpaid  i 
Our  wealth  in  days  all  due  to  tliat  discharge. 
Haste,  hasie,  he  lies  in  wait,  he'.«  at  the  door. 
Insidious  Deaih  1  should  his  strong  hand  arrest, 
No  composition  sets  the  pris'ner  free. 
Eternity's  inexorable  chain 
Fast  binds,  and  vengeance  claims  the  full  arreer. 

How  late  1  shudder'd  on  the  brink  I  how  late 
Life  caird  for  her  la^t  refuge  in  despair  I 
That  time  is  mine,  O  Mead!  to  thee  I  owe ; 
Fain  would  I  pay  thee  with  eternity  ; 
But  ill  my  genius  answers  my  desire  ; 
My  sickly  song  is  mortal,  past  thy  cure. 
Accept  the  will ; — that  dies  not  with  my  strain. 

For  what  calls  thy  disease,  Lorenzo?  Not 
For  E?ciilapian,  but  for  moral  aid. 
Thou  think'st  it  foliy  to  be  wise  too  soon. 
Youth  is  not  rich  in  time  !  it  may  be,  poor; 
Part  with  it  as  with  money,  spariog ;  pajr 


2G  THE  CCMPLAI.NT. 

No  moment,  but  in  purchase  of  its  worth; 

And  what  its  worth,  ask  tlcath-bcds  they  can  telK  . 

Part  with  it  as  with  life,  reluctant ;  big 

With  holy  hope  of  nobler  time  to  come: 

Time  higher  aiiivtl,  still  nearer  the  great  mark 

Of  men  and  angels:  virtue  more  divine. 

Is  this  our  duty,  wisdom,  glory,  gain  ? 
(ThcFC  Reav'n  benign  in  vital  union  binds) 
And  sport  we  like  the  natives  of  the  bough, 
When  vernal  suns  inspire?  Amusement  reigns 
Man's  great  demand  :  to  trifle  is  to  live: 
And  is  it  then  a  triOe,  too,  to  die  ? 

Thou  say'st  I  preach,  Lorenzo !  'Tis  confest. 
Wiiat,  if,  for  once,  I  preach  thee  quite  awake? 
Who  wants  amuseinent  in  the  flarae  of  battlei* 
Is  it  not  treason  to  the  soul  immortal, 
Her  foes  in  arms,  eternity  the  prize  ? 
Will  toys  amuse  when  med'cines  cannot  cure  ? 
When  spirits  ebb,  when  life's  enchanting  scenes 
Their  lustre  lose,  and  lessen  in  our  sight, 
As  lands,  and  cifeies  with  their  glitt'ring  spires, 
To  the  poor  shatter'd  bark,  by  sudden  storm 
Thrown  ofif  to  sea,  and  soon  to  perish  there, 
Will  toys  amuse?  No ;  thrones  will  then  be  toys, 
And  earth  and  skies  seem  dust  upon  the  scale. 

Redeem  we  time  ? — Its  loss  we  dearly  buy. 
What  pleads  Lorenzo  for  his  high-priz'd  sports  ? 
He  pleads  time's  num'rous  blanks  ;  he  loudly  pleads 
The  straw-like  trifles  on  life's  common  stream. 
From  whom  those  blanks  and  trhles  but  from  thee  ^ 
|i»'o  blank,  no  triilc,  Nature  made,  or  meant. 
Virtue,  or  purpos'd  virtue,  still  be  thine ; 


ON  TIME,    B2ATH,  AND  FKlENDSHIP.        27 

This  cancels  thy  complaint  at  once:  this  leave* 
In  act  no  trifle,  and  no  blank  in  time. 
This  greatens,  fills,  immortalizes  all ; 
This-  the  blest  art  of  turning  all  to  gold  : 
This  the  good  heart's  prerogative  to  raise 
A  royal  tribute  from  the  poorest  hours  ; 
Immense  revenue  I  ev'ry  moment  pays. 
If  nothing  more  than  purpose  in  thy  pow^", 
Thy  purpose  firm  \s  equal  to  the  deed  : 
Wh)  does  the  best  his  circumstance  allows, 
Poeswell,  acts  nobly;  angels  could  no  more. 
Our  outuard  act,  indeed,  admits  restraint : 
'Tis  not  in  things  o'er  thought  to  domineer  ; 
Guard  \fe]l  thy  thought:  our  thoughts  are  heard  ic 
heav'n. 

On  all  important  time,  thro'  ev'ry  age, 
Tho'nmch,  and  warm,  the  wise  haveurg-d  ;  the  maa 
I3  yet  unborn  who  duly  weigh's  an  hour, 
'*  I've  lost  a  day" — the  prince  who  nobly  cry'd, 
Had  been  an  emperor  without  his  crown  ; 
Of  Rome  ?  Say,  rather  lord  of  human  race  ! 
He  spoke  as  if  deputed  by  mankind. 
So  should  all  speak:  so  reason  speaks  in  all ; 
From  the  soft  whispers  of  that  God  in  manj 
Hfhy  fly  to  folly,  why  to  freazy  fly, 
For  rescue  from  the  blessings  we  possess  ? 
Time,  the  supreme  I — Time  is  eternity  ; 
Pregnant  with  all  eternity  can  give  ; 
Pregnant  with  all  that  makes  archangels  smile, 
Who  murders  Time,  he  crushes  in  the  birth 
A  pow'r  etherc-al,  only  not  ador'd. 

Ah  I  how  unjust  to  Natare  aad  himself 


23  THE  COMPLAINT. 

Is  thouglitle^is,  thankless,  inconsistent  man  ! 

Like  children  babbling  nonsense  in  their  sports, 

"We  censure  Nature  for  a  span  too  short; 

That  span  too  short  we  tax  as  tedious  teo ; 

Torture  invention,  ail  expedients  tire, 

To  lash  the  linK'ring  moments  into  speed, 

-And  whirl  us  (happy  riildance  I)  from  ourselves. 

Art,  hrainleps  arti  our  furious  charioteer, 

(For  Nature's  voice  unstiiied  would  ret'rtll) 

Drives  headlong  towards  the  precipice  of  death  ; 

Death  most  our  dread  ;  death  thus  more   dreadful. 

made  ; 
O  what  a  riddle  of  absurdity  ! 
Leisure  is  pain  ;  takes  off  our  chariot-wheels: 
IIow  heavily  we  drag  the  load  of  life  ! 
Elest  leisure  is  our  curse ;  like  that  of  Cain, 
It  makes  us  wander,  wander  earth  around. 
To  fly  that  tyrant  Thought.     As  Atlas  groan'd 
The  world  benealh,  we  groan  benervth  an  hour, 
We  cry  for  mercy  to  the  next  amusement ;. 
The  next  amusenient  mortgages  our  fields; 
Slight  inconvenience !  prisons  hardly  frown 
From  hateful  time  if  prisons  set  us  tree. 
Yet  Avhen  death  kindly  tenders  us  relief, 
We  call  him  cruel ;  years  to  moments  shrink;         ^ 
Ages  to  years.     The  telescope  is  turn'd. 
To  man's  false  optics  (from  his  foily  false) 
Time  in  ad\'anee,  behind  him  bides  his  wings, 
And  seems  to  creep  decrepit  with  his  age  ; 
Behold  him  when  past  by  ;  what  then  is  seen 
But  hif  broad  pinions  swifter  than  the  winds? 
And  all  mankind,  in  contradiction  strong, 
Rueful,  aghast  I  cry  out  on  hh  career. 


ON  TIME,    DEATn,    AND  FRIENDSHIP.        29 

Leave  to  thy  foes  these  errors  and  these  ills ; 
To  nature  just,  their  cause  and  cure  explore. 
Net  short  Heaven's  bounty  ;  boundless  our  expense  ; 
No  niggard  Nature  ;  men  are  prodigals. 
"We  waste,  not  use  our  time  ;  we  breathe,  not  live ; 
Time  wasted,   is  existence,  Db'dislife; 
And  bare  existence,  man,  to  live  ordain'd, 
Wrings  and  oppresses  with  enormous  weight. 
And  uhy  ?  since  time  wa^  giv'n  for  u?e,  not  waste, 
Enjoin'd  to  Sy  ;  with  tempest,  tide,  end  stars, 
To  keep  his  speed,  nor  ever  wait  for  man  ; 
Time's  use  was  doom'd  a  pleasure,  waste  a  pain  ; 
That  man  might  feel  his  error  if  unseen, 
And  feeling,  fly  to  labour  for  bis  cure  ; 
Not  blund'ring  spilt  on  Idleness  for  ease. 
X.ife's  cares  are  comforts  ;  such  by  Heav'n  design'd  ; 
He  that  has  none  must  make  them,  or  be  wretched. 
Cares  are  employments  ;  and  without  employ 
The  soul  is  on  a  rack  ;  the  rack  of  rest, 
To  souls  most  adverse  ;  action  all  their  joy. 

Here,  then,  the  riddle,  mark'd  above,  unfolds  ', 
Then  time  turns  torment,  when  man  turns  a  fool, 
"We  rave,  we  wrestle  with  great  Nature's  plan  ; 
TTe  thwart  the  Deity,  and  'tis  decreed, 
Who  thwart  his  will  shall  contradict  their  own, 
Hence  our  unnat-ral  quarrel  with  ourselves; 
Our  thoughts  at  enmity  ;  our  bosom-broil ; 
We  push  Time  from  us,  and  we  wish  him  back ; 
Lavish  of  lustrums,  and  yet  fond  of  life  ; 
Life  we  think  long  and  short ;  death  seek  and  shun  ; 
Body  and  ?o:il,  like  peevish  man  and  wife, 
United  jar,  and  yet  are  loth  to  part. 


30  IflE  COMPLAINT. 

Oh  the  dark  days  of  vanity  !  while  here 
How  tasteless !  and  how  terrible  when  gone  ! 
Gone  I  they  ne'er  go ;  when  past  thpy  haunt  us  still ; 
The  spirit  walks  of  ev'ry  day  deceas'd, 
And  smiles  an  angel,  or  a  fury  frowns. 
Nor  death  nor  life  delight  us.    If  time  past 
And  time  possest  both  pain  us  what  can  please  ? 
That  which  the  Deily  to  please  ordain'd, 
Time  us'd.    The  man  who  consecrates  his  hours 
By  vig'rous  effort  and  an  honest  aim, 
At  once  he  draws  the  sting  of  life  and  death ; 
He  walks  with  nature,  and  her  paths  are  peace, 

Our  errors  cause  and  care  are  seen  !  see  next 
Time's  nature,  origin,  importance,  speed ; 
And  thy  great  gain  from  urging  his  career. — 
Ail-gensual  man,  because  untouch'd,  unseen. 
He  looks  on  time  as  nothing.     Nothing  else 
Is  truly  man's ;  'tis  fortune's — Time's  a  god. 
Hast  thou  ne'er  heard  of  time's  omnipotence? 
For,  or  against,  what  wonders  can  he  do  ! 
And  will ;  to  stantl  blank  neuter  he  disdains. 
Not  on  those  terms  was  time  (Heav'n's  stranger)  sent 
On  his  important  embassy  to  ujan. 
Lorenzo  !  no  ;  on  the  long  j'estin'd  hour, 
From  everlasting  ages  growing  ripe, 
That  ujemorable  hour  of  wondrous  birth, 
Wiien  the  Dread  Sire,  on  emanation  bent, 
And  bi«-  with  Nature*  rising  in  his  might, 
Cali'd  forth  Creation  (for  then  time  was  born)- 
By  Godhead  streaming  thro'  a  thousand  worlds; 
Not  on  those  terms,  from  the  great  days  of  heav'/», 


OS  TIME,    DE\Tn,    AND  FBU:yDSHlP.        31 

From  old  Eternity's  mysterious  orb 

Was  time  cut  off",  and  cast  beneath  the  frkies  ; 

The  skies,  which  watch  hira  in  his  new  aboue, 

Measuring  his  motions  by  revolving  spheres  ; 

That  horologe  machinery  divine 

Hours,  days,  and  months,  and  years,  his  children  play, 

Like  numerous  wings,  around  hira,  as  he  flies; 

Or  rather,  as  unequal  plumes,  they  shape 

His  ample  pinions,  swift  as  darted  flame, 

To  gain  his  gaol,  to  reach  his  ancient  rest, 

And  join  anew  Eternity  his  sire  ; 

In  bis  immutability  to  nest, 

"When  worlds,  that  count  his  circles  now,  unhing'ui 

(Fate  the  loud  signal  sounding)  headlong  rush 

To  timeless  night  and  chaos,  whence  they  rose. 

"Why  spur  the  speedy  ?  why  with  levities 
Kew-wing  thy  short,  short  day's  too  rapid  flight  ? 
Know'st  thou,  or  what  thou  dost,  or  what  is  done  ? 
J-Ian  flies  from  time,  and  time  from  man,  too  sooa 
In  sad  divorce  this  double  flight  must  end.; 
And  then  where  are  we  ?  where,  Lorenzo,  then 
Thy  sports,  thy  pomps  ?  I  grant  thee,  in  a  state 
IVot  unambitious ;  in  the  ruffled  shroud, 
Thy  Parian's  tomb's  triumphant  arch  beneath. 
Has  death  his  fopperies  ?  Then  well  may  life 
Put  on  her  plume  and  in  her  rainbow  shine. 

Ye  well  array'd  ye  lilies  of  o^ir  land  i 
Ye  lilies  male  I  who  neither  toil  nor  spin, 
(As  sister  lilies  might)  if  not  so  wise 
As  Solomon,  more  sumptuous  to  the  sight ! 
Ye  Delicate  !  who  nothing  can  support, 
Yciirselves  most  insupportable  I  for  whom, 


32  THE  COMPLAINT. 

The  winter  rose  must  blow,  the  sun  put  on 

A  brighter  b*»am  in  Leo;  silky-poft 

Favonius  breathe  still  softer,  or  be  chid  ; 

Antl  other  worlds  send  odours,  sauce,  and  song, 

And  robes,  and  notions,  fram'd  in  foreign  loouiS  i 

O  ye  Loren^os  of  our  age  I  who  deem 

One  moment  unamasM  a  misery 

Not  made  for  feeble  man  ;  who  call  aloud 

For  ev'ry  bauble  drivell'd  o'er  by  sense, 

For  rattles  and  conceits  of  ev*ry  cast ; 

For  change  of  follie?  and  relays  of  joy, 

To  drag  your  patient  thro'  the  tedious  length 

Of  a  short  winter's  day — say,  Sages,  say! 

"Wit's  Oracles  ;  say  Dreamers  cf  gay  dreams ; 

How  win  you  weather  an  eternal  night, 

"Where  such  expedients  fail  ? 

O  treach'mus  Conscience  1  while  she  seems  to  sleep 

On  ro«e  and  myrtle,  luli'd  with  Syren  song; 

"While  she  seems  nodding  o'er  her  charge,  to  drop 

On  headlong  appetite  the  slacken'd  rein. 

And  give  us  up  to  license,  un recall 'd, 

Uncnark'd  ; — see,  from  behind  her  secret  stand, 

The  ?Iy  informer  minutes  ev'ry  fault, 

And  her  dread  diaiy  with  honor  fills. 

Tsot  the  gross  act  alone  employs  her  pen  ; 

She  leconnoitres  Fancy's  airy  band,  j 

A  watchful  foe  !  the  formidable  spy,  ) 

List'ning  o'erhears  the  whispers  of  our  camp,  i 

Our  dawning  pnrposes  cf  heart  explores,  i 

And  steals  our  embryos  of  iniijuity, 

As  all  rapacious  usurers  conceal  ) 

Their  Doomsday-book  from  all-consuming  beii  s.         ( 


ON  TIME,    DEATH,    AXD  FRirXDSHir.        S3 

Th'j?:,  with  indulgence  most  severe,  she  treats 
Is  spemUhrifts  of  inestimable  time  ; 
Unnoted,  notes  each  moment  raisapply'd; 
In  leaves  more  durable  than  leaves  of  brass  ; 
AViites  our  whole  history,  which  Death  shall  read. 
In  ev'ry  jmle  delinquent's  private  ear, 
And  Judgment  publish  ;  publish  to  more  worlds 
Than  this;  and  endless  age  in  groans  resound. 
Lorenzo,  such  that  sleeper  in  thy  breast ! 
Such  is  her  slumber,  and  her  vengeance  such 
For  Slighted  counsel ;  such  thy  future  peace  1 
And  lhink*st  thou  still  thou  canst  be  wise  too  soon  ? 

But  why  on  time  so  lavish  is  my  song? 
On  this  great  theme  kind  ?x'atu re  keeps  a  school, 
'Jo  teach  her  sons  herself.     Each  night  we  die ; 
Kacli  morn  are  born  anew  ;  each  day  a  life  ! 
And  shall  we  kill  each  day?  If  triOing  kills, 
.Such  vice  must  butcher.     O  what  heaps  of  slaia 
Cry  out  for  vengeance  on  us  !  Time  destroyed    • 
Iri  suicide,  where  more  than  blood  is  spilt. 
Time  P.ies,  death  urges,  knells  call,  Heav'n  invitee, 
Hell  threatens  ;  all  exerts  ;  in  effort  all  ; 
More  tlian  creation  labours !  labours  more. 
And  is  therein  creation,  what,  amidst 
Tiiis  ttmiult  universal,  wing'd  dispatch, 
And  ardent  energy,  supinely  yawns  ? — 
Man  sleeps,  and  man  alone  ;  aud  man  whose  fate, 
Fate  irreversible,  entire,  extreme. 
Endless,  hair-hung,  breeze-shaken,  o'er  the  gulf 
A  moment  trembles  ;  drops  I  and  man,  for  whom 
All  else  is  in  alarm ;  man,  the  sole  cause 
Of  ihis  surrounding  storm  !  and  yet  he.  sleeps. 
C 


34  THE  COMPLAINT. 

-As  the  storm  rockM  to  rest. — Throw  years  away  t 
Throw  empires,  and  be  blameless.     Moments  seize, 
Heav'ns  on  their  wing ;   a  moment  we  may  wish, 
When  worlds  want  wealth  to  buy.     Bid  day  stand 

still, 
Bid  him  drive  back  his  car,  and  re-import 
Tiie  period  past,  re-give  the  giv'n  hour. 
Torenzo,  more  than  miracles  we  want ; 
i-orcnzo — O  for  ycs;terdaystu  come  I 

Such  is  the  language  of  the  man  awake; 
His  ardour  such  for  what  oppresses  thee, 
And  is  his  ardour  vain,-  Lorenzo  ?  No  ; 
That  more  than  miracle  the  gods  indulge. 
To-day  is  yesterday  returu'd,  return'd 
Full  power'd  to  cancel,  expiate,  raise,  adorn, 
And  reinstate  us  on  the  rock  of  peace. 
^Let  it  not  share  its  predeces^ors  fate, 
Nor  like  its  elder  sisters,  die  a  fool. 
Shall  it  evaporate  in  fume,  fly  oft- 
Fuliginous,  and  stain  us  deeper  still  ? 

shall  we  be  poorer  for  the  plenty  puur'd  ? 

More  wretched  for  the  cle.nenciesof  Heav'n  ? 
Where  shall  I  find  him  ?  angels,  tell  me  where. 

You  know  him  :  lie  is  near  you ;  point  him  out. 

Shall  I  see  glories  beaming  from  his  brow, 

Or  trace  his  footsteps  by  the  rising  flowers? 

Your  golden  wings,  now  hov'ring  o'er  him,  shed 

Protection  ;   now  are  waving  in  applause 
fo  that  b!es.t  son  of  foresight ;  lord  of  fate  I 

That  awful  independent  on  to-morrow  ! 

Whose  work  is  done  ;  who  triumphs  in  the  past ; 

Whose  yesterdays  look  backward  with  a  smile  ; 


OS  TIME,    DZA.TH,    A -VD  SRIXNDSHIP.        35 

Nor,  like  the  Parthian  wound  him  as  they  fly  ; 

That  coimnon  b«t  approbrious  lot  I  Past  hours, 

If  not  by  guilt  yet  -vvound  us  by  their  fiight, 

If  folly  bounds  our  prospect  by  the  grave, 

All  feeling  of  futurity  benum'd  j 

All  god-like  passion  for  eternals  quench'd  ; 

All  relish  of  realities  expir'd  ; 

Reuouuc'd  all  correspondence  with  the  skies ; 

Our  freedom  chain'd  ;  nuite  wingless  our  desire^ 

In  sense  dark  prison'd  all  that  ought  to  soar  j 

Prone  to  the  centre  ;  crawling  in  the  dust  J 

Pismounted  ev'ry  great  and  glorious  aina; 

EmbiUted  ev'ry  faculty  divine ; 

Heart-buryM  ia  the  rubbish  of  the  world, 

The  world,  that  gulph  of  souls,  immortal  souls, 

Souls  elevate,  angelic,  wing'd  with  fire 

To  reach  the  distant  skie<!,  and  triumph  there 

On  thrones,  which  shall  not  mourn  their  masters 

chang'd. 
Tbo'  we  from  earth,  etherial  they  that  fell ; 
Such  veneration  due,  Oman,  toman. 

Who  venerate  themselves  the  world  despise. 
For  what,  gay  friend,  is  this  escutcheon'd  world;^ 
"Which  hangs  out  death  in  one  eternal  night  I 
A  night,  that  glooms  us  in  the  noon-tide  ray,. 
And  wraps  our  thought,  at  banquet?,  in  the  ahroufl. 
Life's  little  stage  is  a  small  eminence, 
Inch-hi2;h  the  grave  above  ;  that  home  of  man, 
Where  dwells  the  multitude ;  we  gaze  aroutsd  ; 
We  read  their  monuments ;  we  sigh  ;  and  while 
We  sigh,  we  sink  ;  and  are  what  we  depior'd  ; 
L5mentintr,  or  lamented,  all  our  lot  I 


36  THECO:.irLAINT. 

Is  death  at  distance  ?  No  :  lie  has  been  on  thee  ; 
And  giv'n  sure  earnest  of  his  final  blow. 
Those  hours  that  lately  smil'd,  where  are  they  now  ? 
Paliid  to  thought,  and  ghastly  I  dmwn'd  all  drownVl 
In  tliat  great  deep,  which  nothing  disenaboguesl 
And,  dying,  they  bequeathed  the  small  renown. 
The  rest  ar«  on  the  wing  :  how  lleet  their  flight  I 
Already  has  the  fatal  train  took  fire; 
A  moment,  and  the  world's  blown  up  to  thee  : 
The  sun  is  darkness,  and  the  stars  arc  dust. 

'Tis  greatly  wise  to  talk  wi«,h  our  past  hours; 
And  ask  tliem  what  report  they  bore  to  heav'n ; 
And  how  they  might  have  borne  more   welcome 

news. 
Their  answers  form  what  men  experience  call ; 
If  Wisdom's  friend  her  best ;  if  not,  worst  foe. 
O  reconcile  them  !  kind  experience  crief. 
'*  There's  nothing  here,  but  what  as  nothing  weighs; 
*'  The  more  our  joy,  the  more  we  know  it  vain ; 
"  And  by  success  are  tutor'd  to  despair.'^ 
Nor  is  it  only  thus,  but  must  be  so. 
Who  knows  not  this,  thv)'  grey,  is  still  a  child. 
Loose  then  from  earth  the  grasp  of  fond  desire, 
Weigh  anchor,  and  some  happier  clime  explore. 

Art  thou  so  moor'd  thou  canst  not  disengage, 
Nor  give  thy  thoughts  a  ply  to  future  scenes? 
Since  by  life's  passing  bi'cath  blown  up  from  earth , 
Light  as  the  summer's  dust  we  take  in  air 
A  moment's  giddy  flight,  and  fall  again  ; 
Join  the  dull  nia=;s,  increase  the  trodden  soil, 
And  sleep  till  earth  herself  shall  be  no  more  ; 
Since  then  (as  emmets,  their  small  world  o'erthrown) 


ox  TIMK,    DEATH,    AND  FRiENDSniP.       37 

"We,  soreamaz'd,  from  out  earth's  ruins  crawl, 
And  rise  to  fate  extreme  of  foul  or  fair," 
As  man's  own  choice  (controller  of  the  skies) 
As  man's  despotic  will  perhaps  one  hour, 
(O  how  omnipotent  is  time  I)  decrees  ; 
Should  not  each  warning  give  a  strong  alarm  ? 
Warning,  far  less  than  that  of  bosom  torn 
Erom  bosom,  bleeding  o'er  the  sacred  dead  ! 
Should  not  each  dial  strike  us  as  we  pass, 
Portentous,  as  the  written  wall  which  struck, 
O'er  midnight  bowls,  the  proud  Assyrian  pale, 
Erev.  hile  high-ilushM  with  insolence  and  wind  ? 
Like  that  the  dial  speaks,  and  points  to  thee, 
Lorenzo  !  loath  to  break  thy  banquet  up  ; 
"  O  man,  thy  kingdom  is  departing  from  thee ; 
*'  And  while  it  lasts,  is  emptier  than  my  shade.*' 
Its  silent  languge  such  ;  nor  need'st  thou  call 
Thy  magi  to  decypher  what  it  means. 
Know,  like  the  Median,  Fate  is  in  thy  walls; 
Dost  ask  how?  whence?  Belshazzar-like,  amaz'd  I 
Man's  make  encloses  the  sure  seeds  of  death  ; 
Life  feeds  the  murderer  ;  ingrate  I  he  thrives 
On  her  own  meal,  and  then  his  nurse  devours. 

But  here,  Lorenzo,  the  delusion  lies; 
That  solar  shadow,  as  it  measures  life, 
It  life  resembles  too;  Life  speeds  away 
From  point  to  point,  though  seeming  to  stand  still 
The  cunning  fugitive  is  swift  by  stealth  ; 
Too  subtle  is  the  movement  to  be  seen  ; 
Yet  soon  man's  hour  is  up,  and  we  are  gone. 
"Warnings  point  out  our  danger,  gnomons,  time  ," 
As  these  are  useless  when  the  sun  is  set; 


33  T^E  COMPLAINT. 

So  those,  but  when  more  glorious  reason  shines. 
Reason  sliouli'  jiulge  in  all ;  in  reason's  eye, 
That  sedeutary  shadow  travels  hard; 
But  such  our  gravitation  to  the  wrong, 
So  prone  our  ht-artp  to  whisper  what  we  wisfi, 
'Tis  later  with  the  wise  than  he's  aware ; 
A  Wilmington  goes  slower  than  the  sun; 
And  all  mankind  mistake  their  tirae  of  day ; 
E'en  age  itself.     Frebh  hopes  are  hourly  sown 
In  furrow'd  brows      So  gentle's  life's  descent, 
Wp  shut  our  eyes,  and  think  it  is  a  plain. 
We  take  fair  days  in  winter  for  the  spring, 
And  turn  our  blessings  into  bane.     Since  ofl 
Man  must  compute  that  age  he  cannot  feel, 
He  scarce  believes  he's  older  for  his  years: 
Thus  at  life's  latest  eve,  we  keep  in  store 
One  disappointment  sure,  to  crown  the  rest; 
The  disappointment  of  a  promis'd  hour. 
On  this  or  similar.  Philander,  thou, 
Whose  mind  was  moral  as  the  preacher's  tongue; 
And  strong,  to  wield  all  science,  worth  the  name- 
Euw  often  we  talk'd  down  the  summer's  sun, 
And  cool'd  our  passions  by  the  breezy  stream  I 
Hwo  oftf'n  thawnl  and  shorten'd  winter's  eve, 
By  conflict  kind,  that  struck  out  laten  truth, 
Best  found,  so  sought ;  to  the  recluse  more  coy  ! 
Thoughts  disentangle  passing  o'er  the  lip  ; 
Clean  runs  tho  thread  ;  if  not,  'tis  thrown  away, 
Or  kept  to  tie  up  nonsense  for  a  song  j 
Song,  fashionably  fruitless;  such  as  stains 
The  fancy,  and  unhallovv'd  passion  fires, 
Chiming  her  saints  to  Cv<herea'i>-  fano. 


ox  TIME,    DEATH,    AND  FRIE>'DSniP.        39 

Know'st  thou.  Lorenzo,  wbat  a  friend  contains : 
As  bees  mix'il  nectar  drawn  from  fragrant  flow'rs 
So  men  from  friendship,  wisdom  and  delight; 
Twins  ty'd  by  Nature ;  if  they  part  they  die. 
Hast  thou  no  friend  to  set  thy  mind  abroach? 
Good  sense  will  stagnate.    Thoughts  shut  up,  want 

air, 
And  spoil,  like  bales  unopen'd  to  the  sun. 
Had  thought  been  all,  sweet  speech  had  been  deny'd  ; 
Speech,  thought's  canal !  speech,  thought's  criterion 

too! 
Thought  in  the  raind  may  come  forth  gold  or  dross ; 
When  coin'd  in  word,  we  know  its  real  worth: 
If  sterling,  store  it  for  thy  future  use  ; 
Twil!  buy  tlipe  benefit  ;  perhaps  renown. 
Thought,  too,  delivered,  is  the  more  possessed; 
Teaching  we  learn,  and  giving  we  retain 
The  births  of  intellect;  wben  dumb  forgot. 
Speech  ventilates  our  intellectual  fire; 
Speech  burnishes  our  mental  magazine  ; 
Brightens  for  ornament,  and  whets  for  use. 
What  numbers,  sheath'd  in  erudition,  lie 
Plung'd  to  the  hilts  in  venerable  tomes, 
And  rusted  in ;  who  might  have  borne  an  edge, 
And  play'd  a  sprightly  beam,  if  born  to  speech  I 
Ifbcirn  blest  heirs  of  half  their  mother's  tongue! 
'Tis  thought's  exchange,  whicii,  like  th'  alternat 

push 
Of  waves  conflicting,  breaks  the  learned  scum, 
And  defecates  the  student's  standing  pool, 
In  contemplation  is  his  proud  resource? 
'Xis  poor,  as  proud,  by  converse  nn'^ustain'd. 


40  THE  COMPLAINT. 

Rude  thought  runs  wild  in  contemplation's  field; 
Converse,  the  nieanage,  breaks  it  to  the  Lit 
Of  due  restraint ;  and  ennalation's  spur 
Gives  graceful  energy,  by  rivals  aw'd. 
'Tis  converse  (lualifies  for  solitude, 
As  exercise  for  salutary  rest: 
By  tliat  untutor'd,  contemplation  raves, 
And  nature's  fool  by  Wisdom's  is  undone. 

"Wisdom,  tho'  richer  than  Peruvian  mines, 
And  sweeter  than  the  sweet  ambrosial  hive, 
"What  is  she  but  the  means  of  happiness? 
That  unobtain'd,  than  folly  more  a  fool ; 
A  melancholy  fool,  without  her  bells. 
.Friendship,  the  means  of  wisdom,  richly  gives 
The  precious  end,  which  makes  our  wisdom  wise. 
ISFature,  in  zeal  for  human  amity, 
Denies  or  damps  an  undivided  joy. 
Joy  is  an  import;  joy  is  an  exchange; 
Joy  flies  monopolists ;  it  calls  for  two  : 
Rich  fruit!  Keav'n-planted  !  never  plack'd  by  one. 
jXeedful  auxiliaries  are  our  fi-icnds,  to  give 
To  social  man  true  relish  of  himself. 
Full  on  ourselves  descending  in  a  line, 
Pleasure'ij  bright  beam  is  feeble  in  delight : 
Uelight  intense  is  taken  by  rebound  ; 
ileverberated  pleasures  fire  the  breast. 

Celestial  happiness  !  whene'er  she  stoops 
To  visit  earth,  one  shrine  the  goddess  Hnds, 
And  one  alone,  to  make  her  sweet  aihends 
For  absent  heav'n — the  bosom  of  a  friend ; 
"Where  heart  meets  heart,  reciprocally  soft, 
Each  other's  pillow  to  repose  divine. 


ON  TIME,    DEA.TH,    AND  FRIENDSHIP.        4\ 

Beware  the  counterfeit ;  in  passion's  flame 

Hearts  melt,  but  melt  like  ice,  soon  harder  froze. 

True  love  strikes  root  in  reason,  passion's  foe ; 

Virtue  alone  entenders  us  for  life  : 

I  wrong  her  much — entenders  us  forever. 

Of  friendship's  fairest  fruits,  the  fruit  most  fair 

Is  virtue  kiudlinsr  at  a  rival  nre. 

And  cmuiously  rapid  in  her  race. 

O  the  soft  enmity  !  endearing  strife  ! 

This  carries  Friendship  to  her  noon-tide  point, 

And  gives  the  rivet  of  eternity 

From    Friendship,    v.hich    outlives  my    former 
themes, 

Glorious  survivor  of  Old  Time  and  Death  ! 

From  Friendship  thus,  that  fiow'r  of  heav'nly  seed, 

The  wise  extract  earth's  raostHyblean  bliss, 

Superior  wisdon^  crown'd  with  smiling  joy. 

But  for  whom  blossoms  this  Elysian  flower? 
Abroad  they  find  who  cherish  it  at  home, 

LorenZo,  pardon  what  ray  love  extorts. 

An  honest  love,  and  not  afraid  to  frown. 
Tho'  choice  of  follies  fasten  on  the  great, 
None  clings  more  obstinate  than  fancy  fondj 
That  sacred  friend.ship  is  their  easy  prey  ; 
Caught  by  the  wafture  of  a  golden  lure, 
Or  fascination  of  a  high-born  smile. 
Their  sniils,  the  great  and  the  coquet  throw  out 
For  others  hearts,  tenacious  of  their  own  i 
And  we  no  less  of  ours  when  such  the  bait. 
Ye  Fortune's  colFerers  !  ye  pow'rs  of  Wealth  I 
You  do  your  rent-rolls  most  felonious  wrong, 
By  taking  our  attachment  to  yourselve?, 
C2 


42  T&ECOMrLAI?fT. 

Can  gold  gain  frienJshp?  Impudence  of  hope  ! 
As  well  mere  man  an  angel  might  beget, 
t/ove,  and  love  only,  is  the  loan  for  love. 
Lorenzo,  pride  repress,  nor  hope  to  find 
A  friend,  but  what  has  found  a  friend  in  thee. 
All  like  the  purchase,  few  the  price  will  pay  ; 
And  this  makes  friends  such  miracles  below. 

What  if  (since  daring  on  so  nice  a  theme) 
I  shew  thee  friendship  delicate  as  dear, 
Of  tender  violations  apt  to  die  ? 
Keserve  will  wound  it,  and  distrust  destroy  5 
Deliberate  on  all  things  with  thy  friend  : 
Eut  since  friends  grow  not  thick  on  ev'ry  bough, 
Nor  ev'ry  friend  unrotten  at  the  corej 
first  on  thy  friend  delib'rate  with  thyself; 
Pause,  ponder,  sift,  not  eager  in  trie  choice, 
Nor  jealous  of  the  chosen  :  fixing  fix  : 
Judge  before  friendship,  then  confide  till  death. 
Well  for  thy  friend,  but  nobler  far  for  thee. 
How  gallant  danger  for  earth's  highest  prize  ! 
A  friend  is  worth  all  hazards  we  can  run. 
*'  Poor  is  the  friendless  master  of  a  world  : 
'*  A  world  in  purchase  for  a  friend  is  gain.'* 

So  sung  he  (angels  hear  that  angel  sing  I 
Angels  from  friendship  gather  half  thoirjoy  !) 
So  sung  Philander,  as  his  friend  went  round 
la  the  rich  ichor,  in  the  gen'rous  blood 
Of  Bacchus,  purple  god  of  joyous  wit. 
A  brow  solute,  and  ever-laughing  eye. 
He  drank  long  health  and  virtue  to  his  friend. 
His  friend  who  warm'd  him  more,  who  more  inspir'J. 
Friendship's  the  wine  of  life ;  but  friendship  new 


ox  TIME,    DEA.Tn,    AND  FRIENDSniP.         43 

(Xol  such  was  his)  is  neither  strong  nor  pure. 

O  !  for  the  bright  complexion  cordial  warmth, 

And  elevating  spirit  of  a  friend, 

For  twenty  summers  ripening  by  my  side  ; 

All  feculence  of  falsehood  long  thrown  down  ; 

All  social  virtues  rising  in  his  soul  ; 

As  chrystal  clear,  and  smiling  as  they  rise ! 

Here  nectar  fiows !  it  sparkles  in  our  sight; 

Rich  to  the  taste,  and  genuine  from  the  heart. 

High  flavour'd  bliss  for  gods  I  on  earth  how  rare  1 

On  earth  how  lost ! — Philander  is  no  more. 

Think'st  thou  the  theme  intoxicates  my  song  ? 
Am  I  too  warm  ? — Too  warm  I  cannot  be  ? 
I  lov'd  hitn  much,  but  now  I  love  him  more. 
Like  bird?,  whose  beauties  languish  half  conceai'd, 
Till  mounted  on  the  wing  their  glossy  ptumc-s 
Expanded  shine  with  azure,  green  and  gold  ; 
How  blessings  brighten  as  they  take  their  flight, 
His  fjight  Philander  took  :  his  upward  flight, 
ir  ever  soul  ascended.     Had  he  dropt, 
(That  ep.gle  genious  1)  O  had  he  let  fall 
One  feather  as  he  Sew,  I  then  had  wrote 
"VThat  friends  might  datter,  prudent  foes  forbear, 
Klvals  scarce  damn,  and  Zoilus  reprieve. 
Yet  what  I  can  I  mast  :  it  were  profane 
To  quench  a  glory  lighted  at  the  skies, 
And  cast  in  shadows  his  illustrious  close. 
J-'trange  ;  the  theme  most  affecting,  most  ^ublime, 
Momentous  mosi  to  man,  should  sleep  unsung  I 
And  yet  it  sleeps,  by  genius  unawak'd, 
Painim  or  Christian,  to  the  blush  of  Wit. 
Man's  highest  triumph,  mar/s  profoundesl  fall, 


44  "J  HE    COMPLAllNf. 


The  death-bed  of  the  just  I  is  yet  undrawn 

By  mortal  hand  !  it  merits  a  divine:  "l 

Angels  should  paint  it,  angels  ever  there; 

There,  on  a  post  of  honour  and  of  joy. 

Dare  I  presume,  then  ?  but  Philander  bids, 

And  glory  tempts,  and  inclination  calls, 

Yet  am  I  struck,  as  struck  the  soul  beneath 

A  eiial  groves  impenetrable  gloom, 

Or  in  some  mighty  ruin's  solemn  shade, 

Or  gazing,  by  pale  lamps,  on  high-born  dust 

In  vaults,  thin  courts  of  poor  unflatter'd  kings; 

Or  at  the  mi;lnight  altar's  hallow'd  fiame. 
Is  it  religion  to  proceed  :  1  pause — 
And  enter  aw'd,  the  temple  of  my  theme. 
It  is  his  death-bed ?  No :  it  is  his  shrine : 
Behold  hira  there  just  rising  to  a  god. 

The  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate 
is  privileg'd  "eyond  the  common  walk 
Of  virtuous  life,  quite  in  the  verge  of  heftv'n. 
Fly  ye  prophane !  if  not,  draw  near  w'ith  awe, 
Receive  the  bles.-iiig,  and  adore  the  chance 
TJiat  threw  in  this  Bethesda  your  disease, 
If  unrestor'd  by  this,  despair  your  cure  ; 
For  here  resistless  demonstration  dwells  ; 
A  death-bed's  a  detector  of  the  heart. 
Here  tir'd  Dissimulation  drops  her  mask 
Thro'  life's  grimace,  that  mistress  of  the  scene  i 
Here  real  and  apparent  are  the  same. 
You  see  the  man,  you  see  his  hold  on  heav'n. 
If  sound  his  virtue  ;  as  Philander's  sound. 
Heav'n  waits  not  the  last  moment ;  owns  her  friends 
On  this  si  de  death,  and  points  them  out  to  men  : 


ON  TIML,    DEATH,    AND  FRIENDsniP,         45 

A  lecture  silent,  but  of  sov' reign  pow'r ! 
To  Vice  confusion,  auil  to  Virtue  peace. 

Whatever  farce  the  boastful  hero  plays, 
Virtue  alone  ha?  majesly  in  Death, 
And  greater  still,  the  more  the  tyrant  frowns, 
Philamlerl  he  severely  fruwn'tl  on  thee, 
"  No  warning  giv'n  !  uncerean-nious  fate  ! 
"  A  sudden  rush  from  life'f  meridian  joy  ! 
I^A  wrench  from  ali  we  love  I  from  all  we  are  I 
r*'  A  restless  bed  of  pain  !  a  plunge  opaque 
*'  Beyond  conjecture  I  feeble  Nature's  dread  I 
'^  Strong  Rea?on'>  shudder  at  the  dark  unknown  I 
*'  A  sun  extingui>h'd!  a  just  opening  grave! 
*'  And,  oh  !  the  last  lastl  u  hat  ?  (can  words  express, 
"  Thought  reach  it  ?)  the  last — silence  of  a  ft  ieud  T' 
"Where  are  th  '?e  horrors,  that  amazetnenx  '.vhere, 
This  hideous  group  of  ills  (which  «-ingly  shock) 
Demand  from  uian  ?  — I  thought  him  man  till  now, 

Th'o'  Nature's  wreck,  thro'  vanquish'd  agonie?, 
(Like  the  stars  struggling  thro'  this  midnight  gloom,) 
"What  gleams  of  joy  ?  what  more  tiian  human  pe?.cey 
Where  the  frail  mortal  ?  the  poor  abject  worm  ? 
No,  not  in  death  the  mortal  to  be  found. 
His  conduct  is  a  legacy  for  all, 
Richer  than  Mammon's  for  his  single  heir. 
His  comforters  he  comforts  •  great  in  ruin, 
"With  unreluctant  grandeur  gives,  not  yields, 
His  soul  sublime,  and  closes  with  his  fate. 

How  our  hearts  burnt  within  us  at  the  scene  ! 
Whence,  this  brave  bound  o'er  limits  fixt  te  man  ' 
His  God  sustains  him  in  his  final  hour  ? 
His  final  hour  brings  glory  to  hi?  God  ', 


46    TUE   C03^PLAI^•T,    ON  TIME,    DEATH,   ScO. 

Man's  glory  Heav'n  vouchsafes  to  call  her  own. 
We  gaze,  we  weep  !  mixt  tears  of  grief  and  joy  I 
Arnazenient  strikes  !  ilevotion  bursts  to  flame  I 
Ch^i^tians adore  !  and  infidels  believe. 
As  some  tall  t.»w'r,  or  lofty  tnoup.tain's  brow, 
Petalns  the  sun  illustrious,  from  its  height, 
While  rising  vajiours  rtnd  deseending  sliades, 
With  damps  and  darkness  drown  t!ie  spacious  vale, 
Undainpt  by  doubt,  undarken'd  by  despair, 
Philander  thus  auguftly  rears  his  head, 
At  that  black  hour  which  general  horror  sheds 
On  the  low  level  of  th'  inglorious  throng  : 
Sweet  peace,  and  heavenly  hope,  and  huiilble  joy, 
Divinely  beam  on  !iis  exalted  soul  ; 
Destruction  gild  and  crown  him  for  the  skies 
With  inc^TTQmiinicable  lustre  bright. 


THfi 

COMPLAINT. 

www 

NTGTlTin. 

vwvw 

NARCISSA. 

Ignoamda  quidtm.  scirent  si  ignoiure  mams. 

Vine-. 


INSCRIBED  TO  HER  GRACE  THE  DUCHESS  OF  P. 


From  dreams,  where  tho't  in  Fancy's  maze  ruus 
mad, 
To  reason,  that  heav'n-ligbted  lamp  in  man, 
Cnce  more  I  wake ;  and  at  the  destin'd  hour, 
Punctual  as  lovers  to  the  moment  sworn, 
I  keep  ray  assignation  with  ray  woe. 

O  !  lost  to  virtue,  lost  to  manly  thought, 
Lost  to  the  noble  sallies  of  the  soul  1 
"Who  think  it  solitude  to  be  alone. 
Communion  sweet !  communion  large  and  high  I 
Our  reason,  guardian  angel,  and  our  God  ! 
Then  nearest  these,  when  others  most  remote; 
And  all  ere  long,  shall  be  remote  bnt  these. 
IIow  dreadful,  then,  to  meet  them  all  alone, 
A  stranger  !  unacknosvledg'd  !  unapproved  I 
Now  woo  them,  wed  them,  bind  them  to  thy  breast; 
To  win  thy  wish  creation  has  no  more. 

Or  if  we  wish  a  fourth,  it  is  a  friend. 

But  friends,  how  mortal  1  dang'roiis  the  desire. 


48  THE  COMPLAINT. 

Take  Phoebus  to  yourselves,  ye  basking  banis  ! 
Inebriate  at  fair  Portntse's  fountain-bead  ; 
Anil  reeling  thro'  the  wilderness  or  joy, 
Where  Sense  runs  savage,  broke  from  reason's  chain, 
-And  sings  faise  peaoe,  till  stnoiljerM  by  the  pall, 
My  fortune  is  unlike,  unlike  my  song, 
Unlike  the  deity  my  song  invokes. 
I  to  Day's  soft-ey'd  sister  pay  my  court, 
(Endymion's  rival)  and  her  aid  implore  j 
Now  first  implor'd  in  succour  to  the  Muse. 
Thou,  who  didst  lately  borrow  Cynthia's*  form 
And  modestly  forego  thine  own  !  O  ihon, 
Who  didst  th}  <elf,  at  riiidnight  hours,  inspire  ! 
Say,  why  not  Cy  nthia,  patroness  of  song  ? 
As  thou  her  cresent,  she  thy  character, 
Assumes,  still  more  a  goddess  by  the  change. 
Are  there  demurring  wits  who  dare  dispute 
This  revolutioB  in  the  world  inspir'd  i' 
Ye  train  Pierian  !  to  the  lunar  sphere. 
In  silent  hour,  address  your  ardent  call 
For  aid  immortal,  less  her  brother's  right. 
She  with  the  spheres  harraoniyus  nightly  leads 
The  mazy  danCe,  and  hears,  their  matchless  strain  ; 
A  strain  for  gods,  deny'd  to  mortal  car. 
Transmit  it  heard,  thou  f^ilver  Q,ueen  of  Heav'n  ! 
What  title  or  what  nauie  endears  thee  most? 
Cynthia  !  Cyllene !  Phcebe  ! — or  dost  hear 

With  liigher  gust,  fair  P d  of  the  skies'? 

Is  that  the  soft  esichantinent  calls  thee  down, 
More  pow'rfal  than  of  oid  Cu-ctan  charm  ? 

*  At  the  Ihike  of  Norfuik's  masqderaJff. 


IfARCISS.V.  49 

Come,  bnt  from  heav'nly  banquets  w  ith  thee  brin^ 

The  so:\\  of  song,  and  whisper  in  mine  ear 

The  thf-.lt  divine  ;  or  in  propitious  dreams 

(For  d reams  are  thine)  transfuse  it  thro'  the  breast 

Of  thy  first  votary — but  not  thy  last, 

If,  like  thy  namesake,  thou  art  ever  kind. 

And  kind  thou  wilt  be,  kind  on  such  a  theme  ; 
A  theme  so  like  thee,  a  quite  lunar  tlieme, 
Soft,  modest,  melancholy,  female,  fair  I 
A  theme  that  rose  all  pale,  and  told  my  soul 
'Twas  night :  on  her  fond  hopes  perpetual  night ; 
A  night  which  struck  a  damp,  a  deadlier  damp 
Than  that  which  smote  me  from  Philander's  tomb. 
ISarcissa  follows  ere  his  tomb  is  clos'd. 
Woes  cluster ;  rare  as  solitary  woes  ; 
They  love  a  train  ;  they  tread  each  other's  heel ; 
Her  doath  invades  his  mournful  right,  and  claims 
The  grief  that  started  from  my  lids  for  him  ; 
Seizes  the  faithless,  alienated  tear, 
Or  shares  it  ere  it  falls.     So  frequent  death, 
v^^orrow  he  more  than  causes  ;  he  confounds  : 
For  hnman  sighs  his  rival  strokes  contend, 
And  make  distress  distraction.     Oh,  Philander  I 
V.  hat  was  thy  fate  ?  a  double  fate  to  me  ; 
Portent  and  pain  !  a  menace  and  a  blow  ! 
Like  the  black  raven  hov'ring  o'er  my  peace, 
rsot  less  a  bird  of  omen  than  of  prey. 
It  caird  Narcissa  long  before  her  hour  : 
It  cali'd  her  tender  soul  by  break  of  bliss, 
F'rom  the  first  blossom,  fi-om  the  buds  of  joy ; 
Those  few  our  noxious  fate  unblasted  leaves 
In  this  inclement  clime  of  human  life. 

Sv.  eet  Hanuonist  I  and  beautiful  as  sweet ; 


50  THECOMPLAlM. 

Ajid  young  as  beautiful !  and  soft  as  young  ! 
And  gay  as  soft !  and  innocent  as  gay  ! 
And  happy  (if  aiigbt  happy  here)  as  good  ! 
For  fortune  fond  had  built  her  nest  on  high. 
Like  birds   quite  exquisite  of  note  and  plume, 
Transfix'd  by  Fate  (\rho  loves  a  loftiy  mark) 
How  from  the  puramit  of  the  grove  she  fell 
And  left  it  unharmonious  !  all  its  charm 
Extinguiph'd  in  the  wonders  of  her  song  ; 
Her  song  still  vibrates  in  my  ravish'd  ear, 
Still  melting  there,  and  with  voluptuous  pain 
(O  to  forget  her  !)  thrilling  thro'  my  heart  ! 

Song,  beauty,  youth,  love,  virtue,  joy  !  this  group 
Of  bright  ideas,  flow'rs  of  Paradise. 
As  yet  unforfeit !  in  one  blaze  we  bind, 
Kneel  and  present  it  to  the  skies,  as  all 
We  guess  of  heav'n  :  and  these  were  all  her  own ; 
And  she  was  mine  :  and  I  was — was ! — most  blest — 
Gay  title  of  the  deepest  misery  ! 
As  bodies  grow  more  pond'rous  robb'd  of  life, 
Good  lost  weighs  more  in  grief  than  gain'd  in  joy. 
Like  blossoraM  trees  o'erturn'd  by  vernal  storm, 
lidvely  in  death  the  beauteous  ruin  lay  ; 
And  if  in  death  still  lovely,  lovelier  there, 
Far  lovelier  !  Pity  swells  the  tide  of  love. 
And  will  not  the  severe  excuse  a  sigh  ! 
Scorn  the  proud  man  that  is  asham'd  to  weep  ; 
Our  tears  indulg'd,  indeed  deserve  our  shame. 
Ye,  that  e'er  lost  an  angel,  pity  me  I 

Soon  as  the  lustre  latiguish'd  in  her  eye, 
Dawning  a  dimmer  day  on  human  sight, 
And  on  her  cheek  the  residence  of  Spring, 
Pale  omen  sat,  and  gcatter'd  fears  around 


KA.RCISSA..  51 

3n  all  that  saw  (and  who  would  cease  to  gaze 
That  once  had  seen?)  with  haste,  parental  haste, 
[  flew,  1  snatchM  her  from  the  rigid  north, 
Her  native    ■:  d,  on  which  bleak  Boreas  blew, 
A.nd  bore  her  nearer  to  the  sun  :  the  sun 
(As  if  thp  sun  could  envy)  cfipck'd  his  beam, 
Oeny'd  his^wonted  succour;  nor  with  more 
filegret  b'held  her  drooping  than  the  bells 
Of  lilies ;  fairest  lilies,  not  so  fair  : 

Q-ueen  lilies!  and  ye  painted  populace  ! 
Who  dwell  in  fields,  and  lead  ambrosial  lives! 
In  morn  and  evening  dew  your  beauties  bathe, 
And  drink  the  sun  which  gives  your  cheeks  to  slo^^J 
And  out-blush  (mine  excepted)  every  fair; 
You  gladlier  grew,  ambitious  of  her  hand, 
Which  often  cropt  your  odours,  incense  meet 
To  thought  so  pure  ?  Ye  lovely  fugitives  I 
Coeval  race  with  man  ;  for  man  you  smile  ; 
Why  not  smile  at  him  too  !  Y'ou  share  indeec^, 
His  sudden  pass  but  not  his  constant  pain. 

So  man  is  made,  nought  ministers  delight, 
But  what  his  glo'.»ing  passions  can  engage  ; 
And  glowing  passions  bent  on  aught  below, 
Must,  soon  or  late,  with  anguish  turn  the  scale; 
And  anguish  after  rapture,  how  severe  I 
Rapture  !  bold  man  !  who  tempts  the  wrath  divine, 
By  plucking  fruit  denyd  to  mortal  tas^te, 
While  here,  presuming  on  the  rights  of  Heav'n. 
For  transport  dost  thou  call  on  ev'ry  hour, 
Lorenzo  !  At  thy  friend's  expense  be  wise  : 
Lean  not  on  earth  :  'twill  pierce  thee  to  the  heart ; 
A  broken  reed  at  best :  but  oft  a  spear; 
On  its  sharp  point  Peace  bleed«,  and  hope  expires. 


52  THE    COMPLAINT.  I 

h 

Turn  hopeless  thought !  turn  from  her: — Thought 

rej)eiril 
Resenting  rallies,  and  wakes  ev'ry  woe. 
Snalch'd  ere  thy  prinie;  and  in  thy  bridal  hour  I 
And  when  kind  f  )rtune,  with  thy  lover  smil'd  ! 
And  when  high-ilavour'd  thy  fjesh  op'ning  joys ! 
And  when  blind  manpronounc'd  thy  bliss  complete; 
And  on  a  foreign  shore,  where  strangers  wept ! 
Strangers  to  thee,  and,  more  surprising  still, 
Strangers  to  kindness,  wept.     Their  eyes  let  fall 
Inhuman  tears  !  stranire  tears !  that  trickled  down 
From  marble  hearts !  obdurate  tenderness  ! 
A  tenderness  that  call'd  them  more  severe, 
In  spite  of  Nature's  soft  persuasion  steel'J  ; 
While  Nature  melted,  Superstition  rav'd  ! 
That  mourn'd  the  dead,  and  thisdeny'd  a  grave. 

Their  sighs  incens'd ;  sighs  foreign  to  the  will  | 
Their  will  the  tiger  suck'd,  outrag'd  the  storm: 
For,  oh!  the  curs'd  ungodliness  of  zeal 
While  sinful  fiesh  relented,  spirit  nurs'd 
In  blind  infnlibilitys  embrace, 
The  sainted  spirit  petrified  the  breast, 
Dcny'd  the  charity  of  dust  to  spread 
O'er  dust !  a  charity  their  dogs  enjoy. 
What  could  I  do  ?  what  succour?  what  resource  ? 
With  pious  sacrilege  a  grave  I  stole  ; 
With  impious  piety  that  grave  I  wrong'd ; 
Short  in  my  duty,  coAvard  in  ray  grief! 
JMorc  like  her  murderer  than  friend,  I  crept 
With  soft  suspended  step,  and,  rau/llcd  deep 
In  midnight  darkness,  whisper'd  my  last  sigh. 
I  whisper'd  what  should  echo  thru'  their  realms : 


Nor  writ  her  name,  whose  tomb  should  pierce  the 

skies. 
Presumptuous  fear  !  how  durst  I  dread  her  foes, 
"While  Ts'ature's  loudest  dictates  I  obey'd  ? 
Pardon  necessity,  blest  shade?  of  grief 
And  indignation  rival  bursts  I  pour'd  ; 
Half-execration  mingled  with  my  pray'r; 
Kindled  at  man,  while  I  his  God  ador'd  ; 
Sore  grudg'd  the  savage  land  her  sacred  dust; 
Stamp'd  the  curs'd  soil ;  and  with  hdinauity 
(Deny'd  Narcissa)  wished  them  all  a  grave. 

Glows  my  resentment  into  guilt?  what  guilt 
Can  equal  violations  of  the  dead  ? 
The  dead  how  sacred  I  sacred  is  the  dust 
Of  this  heav'n  labour'd  form,  erect,  divine  I 
Thisheav'n-assum'd,  majestic,  robe  of  earth, 
He  deign'd  to  wear,  who  hung  the  vast  expanse 
With  azure  bright,  and  cloth'd  the  sun  in  gold. 
When  ev'ry  passion  sleeps  tiiat  can  otfend  ; 
When  strikes  us  ev'ry  motive  that  can  melt; 
When  man  can  wreak  his  rancour  uncontrol'd, 
That  strongest  curb  on  insult  and  ill-will  ; 
Then,  spleen  to  dust  ?  the  dust  of  innocence  ? 
An  angel's  dust! — This  Lucifer  transcends; 
When  he  contended  for  the  Patriarch's  bones, 
'Twas  not  the  strife  of  malice,  but  of  pride  ; 
The  strife  of  pontifl'pride,  not  pontiff  gall. 

Far  less  than  this  is  shocking  in  a  race 
Most  wretched,  but  from  streams  of  mutual  love 
And  uncreated,  but  for  love  divine  ; 
And,  but  for  love  divine;  this  moment  lost. 
By  Fate  resorb'd,  and  suck  in  endless  night. 


54  ^HE  COMPLAINT. 

Man  hard  of  heart  to  man  !  of  horrid  things 
Most  horrid  I  'mid  stupendous,  highly  strange 
Yet  oft  his  courtesies  are  smoother  wrongs  ; 
Pride  brandishes  the  favours  he  confers, 
And  contumelious  his  humanity  : 
What  then  his  vengeance?  Hear  it  not,  ye  stars! 
And  thou,  pale  Moon  I  turn  paler  at  the  sound ; 
Man  is  to  man  the  sorest,  surest  ili. 
A  previous  blast  foretell's  the  rising  storrii ; 
O'erwhelming  turrets  threaten  ere  they  fall ; 
Volcanoes  bellow  ere  they  disembogue  : 
Earth  trembles  ere  her  yawning  jaws  devour  ; 
And  smoke  betrays  the  wide  consuming  lire  : 
Ruin  from  man  is  most  conceal'd  when  near, 
And  ?ends  the  dreadful  tidings  in  the  blow. 
Is  this  the  flight  of  fancy  ?  would  it  were  ! 
Heav'n's  Sov'reign  saves  all  beings,  but  himself. 
That  hideous  sight,  a  naked  human  heart. 

Fir'd  is  the  Muj>e  ?  and  let  the  muse  be  fir'd  : 
Who  not  inflam'd,  when  what  he  speaks  he  fo«:l$  ; 
A!id  in  the  nerve  most  tender,  in  his  friends  ' 
Shame  to  mankind  !  Philander  had  his  foes  ; 
He  felt  the  truths  I  sing,  and  I  in  him  : 
But  he  nor  I  feel  more.     Past  ills,  Narcissa  : 
Are  sunk  in  thee,  thou  recent  wound  of  heart  [ 
Which  bleeds  with  other  cares,  with  other  panfg; 
Pangs  numVous  as  the  num'rous  ills  that  swarm'd 
O'er  thy  distinguish'd  fate,  and  clust'ring  the   ■, 
Thick  as  the  locust  on  the  land  of  Nile, 
Made  death  more  deadly,  and  more  dark  (he  grave. 
Rpf!tct  (if  not  forgot  my  touching  tale) 
How  was  each  ciicumstance  with  aspics  arm'd ? 


XARCISSl..  $.5 

An  aspic  each,  and  all  an  hydra-woe. 
What  strong  Herculean  virtue  could  suffice  ?— 
Or  is  it  virtue  to  be  conquered  here  ? 
This  hoary  cheek  a  train  of  tears  bedews, 
And  each  tear  [nourns  its  own  distinct  distress; 
And  each  distress,  distinctly  mourn'd,  demands 
Of  grief  still  more,  as  heii^hten'd  by  the  whole. 
A  grief  like  this  proprietors  excludes  ! 
Not  friends  alone  such  obsequies  deplore  ; 
They  make  mankind  the  mourner ;  carry  sighs 
Far  as  the  fatal  fame  can  wing  her  way, 
And  turn  the  gayest  thought  of  gayest  age 
Down  the  right  channel,  thro'  the  vale  of  death, 

The  vale  of  death  1  that  hush'd  Cimmerian  val», 
"Where  darkness  brooding  o'er  unfinish'd  fates, 
IVith  raven  wing  incumbent  waits  the  day 
(Dread  day  !)  that  interdicts  all  future  changQ 
That  subterranean  world,  that  land  of  ruin  ! 
Fit  walk,  Lorenzo,  for  proud  lumian  thought! 
There  let  my  thoughts-expatiate,  and  explore 
Balsaiijic  truths  and  healing  sentiments, 
Of  all  most  wanted,  and  most  welcome  here. 
For  gay  Lorenzo's  sake,  and  for  thy  ow'n, 
Hy  suul  ;  *'  The  fruits  of  dying  friends  survey; 
"  Expose  the  vain  of  life  ;  weigh  life  and  death  ; 
"  Give  death  his  eulogy  ;  thy  fear  subdue  ; 
"  And  labour  that  lirst  palm'of  noble  mind:?, 
*'  A  nmnly  scorn  of  terror  from  the  tomb." 

This  harvest  reap  from  thy  Narcissa's  grave. 
As  poets  feign'd  from  Ajax'  streaming  blood 
Arose,  with  grief  in?crib'd,  a  mournful  flow V,' 
J-.et  wisdom  blossom  from  my  mortal  wound. 


56  THE  COMPLAINT. 

And  first,  of  dying  fi-iends;  what  fruit  from  these  ? 

It  brings  us  more  than  triple  aid  ;  an  aid 

To  chase  our  thoughtlessness,  fear,  pride,  and  guilt. 

Our  dying  friends  come  o'er  us  like  a  cloud, 

To  damp  our  brainless  ardours,  and  abate 

That  glare  of  life  which  often  blinds  the  wise. 

Our  dying  friends  are  pioneers,  to  smooth 

Our  rugged  pass  to  death  ;  to  brake  those  bars 

Of  terror  and  abhorrence  Nature  throws 

Cross  our  obstructed  way,  and  thus  to  make 

Welcome,  as  safe,  our  port  from  ev'ry  storm. 

Each  friend  by  Fate  snatch'd  from  us,  is  a  plume 

Pluck'd  from  the  wing  of  human  vanity, 

Which  makes  us  stoop  from  oar  aerial  heights, 

And  ddmp'd  with  omen  of  our  own  decease, 

Ond.'ooping  pinions  of  ambition  lowerM, 

Just  skim  earth's  surface  ere  we  break  it  up. 

O'er  putrid  earth  to  scratch  a  little  dust 

And  save  tlie  world  a  nuisance.     Smitten  friends 

Are  angels,  sent  on  errands  full  of  love  ; 

For  us  they  languish,  and  for  us  they  die; 

And  shall  they  languish,  shall  they  die  in  vain  ! 

Ungrateful,  shall  we  grieve  their  hov'rlng  shades, 

Which  wait  the  revolution  in  our  hearts? 

Shall  we  disdain  their  silent,  soft  address, 

Their  posthumous  advice,  and  pious  pray'r  ? 

Senseless,  as  herds  that  graze  their  hallow'd  grave?, 

Tread  under  foot  their  agonies  and  groans ; 

Frustrate  their  anguish,  and  destroy  their  deaths? 

Lorenzo  !  no  ;  the  thought  of  death  indulge  « 
Give  it  its  wholesome  empire  !  let  it  reign, 
That  kind  chastiser  of  thy  soul  in  joy  ! 


liARCISeA.  5 

Its  reigQ  will  spread  thy  glorious  conquests  far, 
And  still  the  tumults  of  thy  rufiled  breast, 
Auspicious  <era  1  golden  days,  begin  I 
The  thought  of  tleath,  shall,  like  a  god,  inspire. 
And  why  not  think  on  death  ?  Is  iife  the  theme 
Of  ev'ry  thought  ?  and  wish  of  ev'ry  hour  ? 
And  song  of  ev'ry  joy  ?  Surprising  truth! 
The  beaten  spaniel's  fondness  not  so  strange. 
To  wave  the  num'rous  ills  that  seize  on  life 
As  their  own  property,  their  lawful  prey  ; 
Ere  man  has  aieasur'd  half  his  weary  stage, 
Ilis  luxuries  have  left  him  no  reserve. 
No  maiden  relishes,  unbroach'd  delights; 
On  coid-serv'd  repetitions  he  subsists, 
And  in  the  tasteless  present  chews  the  past; 
Disgusted  chews,  and  scarce  can  swallow  down. 
Like  lavish  ancesters.  his  earlier  years 
Have  disinherited  his  future  hours, 
Which  starve  on  orts,  and  glean  their  farmer  field. 
Live  ever  here,  Lorenzo  I — shocking  thought! 
So  shocking,  they  who  wish  disown  it,  too; 
Disown  froru  sharae  what  they  from  folly  crave. 
Live  ever  in  tiie  womb,  nor  see  the  light ! 
For  what  live  ever  here  ? — with  lab'ring  step 
To  tread  our  former  footsteps  ?  pace  the  rouud 
Eternal  ?  to  climb  life's  worn,  heavy  wheel, 
Which  draws  up  nothing  new  ?  to  beat,  and  beat 
The  beaten  track?  to  bid  each  wretched  day 
The  former  mock?  to  surfeit  on  the  same, 
And  yawn  our  joys  ?  or  thank  a  luisery 
For  change,  tho'  sad  ?  to  see  what  we  have  seen  * 
Hesr,  till  unheard,  the  same  old  slabber'd  tale? 
B 


58  THE   COMPLAINT. 

To  taste  the  tasted   and  at  each  return 
Less  tasteful  ?  o'er  our  palates  to  decant 
Anotlier  vintage  ?  strain  a  flatter  year, 
Thro*  loaded  vessels,  and  a  laxertone? 
Crazy  machines  to  grind  earth's  wasted  fruits ! 
Ill  ground  and  worse  concocted  !  load,  not  life  » 
The  rational  foul  kennels  of  excess! 
Still-streaming  thoroughfares  of  dull  debauch! 
■iVernbling  each  gulp,  lest  death  should  snatch  tbei 
bowl. 
Such  of  our  f^.ne  ones  is  the  wish  refin'd  ! 
So  would  they  have  it :  elegant  desire  ! 
'Why  not  invite  the  bellowing  stalls  and  wilds? 
But  such  examples  might  their  riot  awe. 
Thro'  want  of  virtue,  that  is,  want  of  thought, 
(Tho'  on  bright  thought  they  father  all  their  flights) 
To  what  are  they  reduc'd  ?  to  love  and  hate 
The  same  vain  world ;  to  censure  and  espouse 
'[his  painted  shrew  of  life,  who  calls  them  fool 
Each  moment  of  each  day  ;  to  flatter  bad 
J'hro'  dread  of  worse  ;  to  cling  to  this  rude  rock^, 
.Barren,  to  ihcun,  of  good,  and  sharp  with  ills, 
And  hourly  blacken'd  with  impending  storms, 
And  infauaous  for  wrecks  of  human  hope — 
Scar'd  at  the  gloomy  gulph  that  yawns  beneath. 
Such  are  their  triumphs  !  such  their  pangs  of  joy. 
»Tis  time,  high  time,  to  shift  this  dismal  scene. 
This  hugg'ti,  this  hideous  state,  what  art  can  cure? 
One  only  :  but  that  one  what  all  may  reach  ; 
Virtue — she,  wonder-working  goddess  !  charms 
That  rock  to  bloom,  and  tames  the  painted  shrew  3 
And,  what  will  more  surprise,  Loreiiso  I  gives 


NAECISSA.  59 

To  life's  sick,  nauseous  iteratloa,  change; 
And  etraiteas  Nature's  circle  to  a  liue. 
Believ'st  thou  this,  Lorenzo  ?  lend  an  ear, 
A  pEtieut  ear,  thoul't  blush  to  disbelieve. 

A  languid,  leideo  iteration  reign?, 
And  ever  muft,  o'er  those  whose  joy?  are  joys 
Of  sight,  fetuell,  taste.    The  cuckoo-seasons  sing 
The  same  dull  note  to  such  as  nothing  prize, 
But  what  thoie  seasons,  from  the  teeming  earth, 
To  doting  sease  indulge.     But  nobler  minds, 
Which  relifh  fruits  uaripen'd  by  the  sun, 
Idake  their  days  variou>,  various  as  the  dyes 
On  the  dove's  neck,  which  waatou  in  his  rays. 
On  minds  of  dove-like  inooceuce  possess'd, 
On  lighten'd  minds,  that  bask  iu  vii-tue's*  beams, 
Nothing  hangs  tedious,  nothing  old  revolv(>s 
In  that  for  which  they  long,  for  which  they  live, 
tfheir  glorious  efforts,  wing'd  with  heavenly  hope, 
Each  rising  morning  sees  still  higher  rise  ; 
Each  bounteous  dawn  itsnoveJty  presents 
To  worth  maturing,  nev.*  strenth,  luf^ter,  fame ; 
"While  Nature's  circle,  like  a  chariot-wheel 
Rolling  beneath  their  elevated  aims. 
Makes  their  fair  prospect  fairer  ev'ry  hour ; 
Advancing  virtue  in  a  line  to  bliss  ; 
Virtue  which  Christian  motives  best  inspire  ! 
And  bliss,  which  Christian  scuemes  alone  insure  ! 

And  shell  w<»  then,  for  virtue's  sake,  commence 
Apostates?  and  turn  infidels  for  joy  ? 
A  truth  it  is   few  doabt.  but  fewer  trust, 
*'  He  sJas  agair-st  this  H:>^  who  slights  the  next." 
T/hat  h  thl?  life?  hj^v  fc^^  Ui^ir  f'Av'rit^  know  I 


60  THE  COMPLAINT. 

Fond  in  the  dark,  and  blind  in  our  embrace, 

By  pas-;!'  tia'ely  loring  Hfe,  we  mrtke 

LovM  life  unlovely,  huztring  her  to  death. 

We  give  to  time  etpi-nicy's  regard, 

And,  dreaming,  take  our  pajssage  for  our  port. 

Life  has  no  value  as  an  eiu)^  but  means; 

An  end  deplorable  I  a  means  divine  I 

When  'tis  our  all,  His  nothing ,  worse  than  nought ; 

A  nest  of  pains  ;  when  held  as  nothing,  much. 

Like  some  fair  hurn'rists,  life  is  most  enjoy'd 

"VThen  courted  least ;  most  worth,  when  disesteeniM ; 

Then  'tis  the  seat  of  comfort,  rieh  in  peace; 

In  prospect  richer  far;  important!  awful  1 

Not  lo  be  mention'd  but  with  shouts  of  praise  I 

Not  to  be  thought  on  but  with  tides  of  joy  I 

The  mighty  basis  of  eternal  bliss  I 

"Where  now  the  barren  rock  ?  the  painted  shrew  ? 
Where  now  Lorenzo,  life's  eternal  round  ? 
Have  I  not  made  my  triple  promise  good  ? 
Vain  is  the  world  ;  but  only  to  the  vain. 
To  what  compare  we  tl»en  this  varying  scene. 
Whose  worth  ambiguous,  rises  and  declines. 
Waxes  and  wanes?  (In  all,  propitious  Night 
Assist  me  here)  compare  it  to  the  mooa  ; 
Dark  in  herself,  and  indigent ;  but  rich 
In  borrowM  lustre  from  a  hiirlier  sphere. 
When  gross  guilt  Interposes,  lab'ring  earth, 
O'ershadovv'd  mourns  a  deep  eclipse  of  joy ; 
Her  joys,  at  brightest,  pallid,  to  that  font 
Of  full  elTulgent  glory  whence  they  flow. 

Nor  is  that  glory  di^^tant.     Oh,  Lorenzo, 
A  good  man  and  an  angel  I  these  between 


NARCISSA.  CI 

How  thin  the  barrier  I  what  divides  their  fate  ? 

Perhaps  a  moment,  or  perhaps  a  year ; 

Or  if  an  age,  it  is  a  moment  still ; 

A  moment,  or  eternity's  forgot. 

Then  be  what  once  they  were  who  now  are  goda ; 

Be  what  Philander  wag.  and  claim  the  skies. 

Start!*  timid  Nature  at  the  gloomy  pass  ? 

The  foft  transition  call  it,  and  he  chcer'd: 

Such  it  is  often,  and  why  not  to  thee  ? 

To  hope  the  best  is  piou«,  brave,  and  wise  • 

And  may  itself  procure  what  it  presumes. 

Life  is  much  Gatter'd,  Death  i«  much  traduc'd; 

Compare  the  rivals,  and  the  kinder  crown. 

** Strange  competition?'' — True,  Lorenzo,  strange  ! 

So  little  life  can  cast  into  the  scale. 

Life  make?  the  soul  dependent  on  the  dust ; 
Death  gives  lier  wings  to  mount  above  the  spheres. 
Thro'  chinks,  styl'd  organs,  dim  life  peeps  at  light; 
Death  bursts  th'  involving  cloud,  and  all  is  day  j 
AH  eye,  all  ear,  the  diseaibody'd  pow'r. 
Death  has  feign'd  evils  nature  shall  not  feel ; 
Life,  ills  substantial,  wisdom  cannot  shun. 
Is  not  the  mighty  mind,  that  son  of  Heav'n, 
By  tyrant  Lifedethron'd.  imprison'd,  pain'd  ? 
By  death  enlarg'd,  ennobi'd,  deify'd  ? 
Death  but  entombs  the  body,  life  the  soul. 

'*  Is  death  then  guiltless?  how  hf»  marks  his  way 
*'  With  dreadful  waste  of  what  deservfs  to  shine  I 
"Art,  genius,  fortune,  elevated  pow'r; 
*'  With  various  lustres  these  light  up  the  world, 
"  Which  death  puts  out,  and  darkens  human  rac€.** 
I  grant  Lorenzo,  this  indictment  just ; 


C2  '•HB   COMPLAINT. 

The  sage,  peer,  potentate,  kin^,  conqnerer  ! 
Death  hu'nblesthe&e;  more  barb'ious  Life  the  man. 
Life  is  the  triumph  of  our  mould'ring  clay  ; 
Death  of  the  spirit  infinite!  divine! 
Death  has  ro  dread  but  what  frail  life  imparts  ; 
Nor  life  true  joy  but  what  kind  death  improves, 
Ko  h\h-r  has  life  to  boast  till  death  c&n  i^ive 
Far  greater.     Life's  a  debtor  in  the  grare ; 
Dark  lattice  lotting  in  eternal  day  ! 

Lorenzo,  blush  at  fond r. ess  for  a  life 
"Which  !>ends  celti.stial  souls  on  errands  vile, 
To  CHter  for  the  :-e!ise,  and  serve  at  boards 
"Where  ev'ry  ranker  of  the  wiid^   perhaps 
Each  reptile  ju-itly  claims  our  upper-hand. 
Luxurious  feast!  a  soul,  a  soul  iniinortal, 
In  all  the  dainties  of  a  brute  berair'd  I 
Lorenzo,  blush  at  terror  for  a  death 
"Which  gives  thee  to  repose  in  festive  bow'fs, 
"Where  nectars  sparkle,  angels  minister, 
And  more  than  angels  shnre,  and  raise,  and  crona, 
And  eternize,  tbf  birth  bloom,  bursts  of  bliss. 
What  need  f  more?  O  death,  tho  palm  is  thine. 

Then  welcome,  death  1  thj  dreaded  harbingers, 
Age  and  disease  ;  Disease  tho'  long  my  guest, 
That  plucks  ray  nerves,  those  tender  strings  of  life  ; 
Which  pluck'd  a  little  more,  will  toll  the  bell 
That  calls  my  few  friends  to  my  funeral; 
Where  feeble  Nature  drops,  perhaps,  a  tear. 
While  Reason  and  cieligion,  better  taught. 
Congratulate  the  dead,  and  crown  his  tomb 
With  wreath  triumphant.     Death  is  victory, 
It  binds  in  chains  the  raging  ills  of  life : 


NA.BCIESA.  0,J 

Liist  and  aoibition,  Wrath  and  Avarice, 
Dragg'd  at  his  chariot-wheel,  applaud  his  pow'r. 
That  ills  corrosive,  cares  importunate, 
Are  not  immortal  too,  O  death  is  thine. 
Our  day  of  desolation  ! — name  it  right, 
'Tis  our  great  pay-day  :  -'tis  our  harvest,  rich 
And  ripe.     What  tho'  the  sickle,  sometimes  keen, 
Just  scars  us  as  we  reap  the  golden  grain  ? 
More  than  thy  fa:\]m,  O  Gilead  !  heals  the  wound. 
Birth's  feeble  cry.  and  Death's  deep  dismal  groan, 
Are  slender  tributes  lovv-tax'd  Nature  pays 
For  mighty  gain ;  the  gain  of  each  a  life  I 
But  O  I  the  last  the  former  so  transcends, 
Life  dies  compared;  Life  lives  beyond  the  grave. 

And  ieel  I,  Death,  no  joy  IVum  thought  of  thee? 
Death  the  great  counsellor,  who  man  ins{)ire3 
With  every  nobler  thought  and  fairer  deed  l 
Death,  the  deliverer,  who  rescues  man  I 
Death,  ihe  rewarder,  who  the  rescu'd  crowns! 
Death,  that  absolves,  my  birth,  a  curse  without  it ' 
Rich  Death  that  realizes  all  my  cares, 
Toii.^,  virtues,  hopes  ;  without  it  a  chimera  l 
Death,  of  all  pain  the  period,  not  of  joy  ; 
Joy's  source  and  subject  still  subsist  unhurt ; 
One  in  my  soul,  and  one  in  her  great  sire, 
Tho'  the  four  winds  were  warring  for  my  dust. 
Yes,  and  from  winds,  and  waves,  and  central  night, 
Tho'  prison'd  there,  my  dust  toio  I  reclaim, 
(To  dust  when  drop  proud  natures'^  proudest  spLtres) 
And  live  entire.     Death  is  the  crown  of  life: 
Where  death  deny'd,  poor  man  would  live  in  vain  r 
Where  death  denv'd,  to  ih-p  ',— .m1,i  not  bo  lif*^  • 


G4  THE  COMPLAINT. — XARCISSA. 

Where  death  deny'd,  e'en  fools  wouhl  wish  to  die. 
Death  wounds  to  cure  :  we  fall,  we  rise,  we  reign  •! 
Spring  from  our  fetters,  fasten  in  the  skies, 
Where  blooming  Eden  withers  in  our  sight  : 
Death  give  us  more  than  was  in  Eden  lost. 
This  king  of  terrors  is  the  prince  of  peace. 
Wheo  shall  I  die  to  vanity,  pain,  death? 
When  fchall  I  die? — when  shall  I  live  for  ever  ? 


THE 

COMPLAINT. 

vwvw 

NIGHT  IV. 

vwvw 

THE  CHRISTIAN  TRIU3IPH. 

CONTAINING 

Tht  only  Curt  for  the  Fear  of  Death  ;  and  proper  Sciiti- 
mirAs  of  Heart  on  that  inestimable  Blessing. 

INSCEIBED  TO  THE  HONOURABLE  MR.  YORKE. 

A  MUCH  indebted  muse,  O  Yorke  I  intrudes. 
Amid  the  smiles  of  fortune  and  of  youth, 
Thine  ear  is  patient  of  a  serious-song. 
How  deep  implanted  in  the  breast  of  man 
The  dread  of  death  !  I  sing  its  sov'reign  cure. 

Why  start  at  death  ?  where  is  he  ?  Death  arriv'<!, 
Is  past ;  not  come,  or  gone,  he's  never  here. 
Ere  hope,  sensation  fails;  black-boding  man 
Receives,  not  suffers,  Death's  tremendous  bi;;\v. 
The  kneil  the  shroud,  the  mattock,  and  the  gicivc  . 
The  deep  damp  vault,  the  darkness,  and  the  wor:c  , 
These  are  the  buiibears  of  a  winter's  eve  ; 
The  terrors  of  the  living,  not  the  dead. 
Imaginations  fool,  and  errors  wretch, 
Mao  makes  a  death  which  Nature  never  made  , 
Then  on  the  point  of  his  own  fancy  falls, 
And  feels  a  thousand  deaths  ia  fearing  one. 
D2 


g6  iEE  COMPLAINTi 

But  were  Death  friglitful,  what  has  age  to  fear  ? 
If  prudent,  age  should  meet  the  friendly  foe, 
And  phclter  in  his  hoi>|>itabIe  gloom. 
I  scarce  can  meet  a  inonuiueut  but  holds 
My  younger  ;  ev'ry  date  cries — ''  Come  away.'* 
And  what  recalls  me?  Look  the  world  around, 
And  tell  me  what '.  the  wisest  cannot  tell. 
Should  any  born  of  woman  give  his  thought 
Full  range  on  just  dislike's  unbounded  field  j 
Of  things,  the  vanity,  of  men,  the  fiaws ; 
Flaws  in  the  best ;  the  many,  flaw  all  o'ei* ; 
As  leopards  spotted,  or  as  Elhiops  dark  ; 
Vivacious  ill ;  good  dying  imiiiature  ; 
(How  immature  Narcissa's  marble  tells) 
And  at  its  death  bequeathing  endless  pain  ; 
His  heart  tho'  bold,  would  sicken  at  the  sight, 
And  spend  itself  in  sighs  for  future  scenes. 

But  grant  to  life  (and  just  it  is  to  grant 
To  lucky  life)  some  perquisites  of  joy  ; 
A.  time  there  is,  when,  like  a  thrice-told  tale, 
liong-rifled  life  of  siveet  can  yield  no  more, 
But  from  our  comment  on  the  comedy, 
Pleasring  reflections  on  parts  well  sustainM, 
Or  purpos'd  emendations  where  we  fail'd. 
Or  hopes  of  plaudits  from  our  candid  Judge, 
When,  on  their  exit,  souls  are  bid  unrobe, 
Toss  fortune  back  her  tinsel  and  her  plume, 
And  drop  this  mask  of  flesh  behind  the  scene. 

"With  me  that  time  is  come  :  my  world  is  dead  ; 
A  new  world  rises,  and  new  manners  reign. 
Foreign  comedians,  a  spruce  band  !  arrive 
To  push  me  from  the  .^cene,  or  hiss  me  there. 


THE  cnuisTivx  TUixr:.rpn.  07 

What  a  pert  race  starts  up  !  the  strangers  ga^^c, 
And  I  at  thera  ;  my  neiglibour  is  unknown  ; 
Nor  that  the  worst.     Ah  aie  !  t!ie  dire  effect 
Of  loit'ring  here,  of  death  defrauded  long  j 
Of  old  so  gracious  (and  ht  that  suffice) 
My  very  master  knows  aie  not. 

Shall  1  dare  say,  peculiar  is  the  fate? 
I've  been  so  long  rcmember'd,  I'm  forgot, 
An  object  ever  pressing  dims  the  sight, 
And  hides  behind  its  ardor  to  be  seen. 
"When  in  his  courtiers  ears  I  pcur  my  plaint, 
They  drink  it  as  the  nectar  of  the  great, 
And  squeeze  my  hand,  and  beg  me  come  to  morrow  ; 
Refusal  cans't  thou  wear  a  smoother  form  ? 

Indulge  me,  nor  conceive  I  drop  my  thenocj 
Who  cheapens  life,  abates  the  fear  of  death. 
Twice  told  the  period  spent  on  stubbjl-n  Troy, 
Court-favour,  yet  untaken,  I  besiege  ; 
Ambition's  ill-judged  eSbrt  to  be  rich. 
Alas  I  ambition  makes  my  little  less, 
Embittering  the  possess'd.     Why  wish  for  more  ;' 
AVishing  of  all  employments,  is  the  worst! 
Philosophy's  reverse,  and  health's  decay  I 
Were  I  as  plump  as  stallM  Theology, 
Wishing  would  u'aste  me  to  this  shade  again. 
Were  I  as  wealthy  as  a  South-sea  dream, 
Wishing  is  an  expedient  to  be  poor. 
Wishing  that  constant  hectic  of  a  fool, 
Caught  at  a  court,  purg'd  off  by  purer  air 
And  simpler  diet,  gifts  of  rural  life! 

Blest  be  that  hand  divine,  which  gently  leid 
I^Iy  heart  at  rest  beneath  this  humble  shed. 


68  THE  COMPLAINT. 

The  wnrl  J's  a  stately  bark,  on  dangerous  seas 

With  pleasure  teen,  but  boarded  at  or.r  peril : 

Here  on  a  single  plank,  thrown  safe  ashore, 

I  hear  the  tumult  of  the  distant  throng 

As  that  of  seas  remote,  or  dying  storms, 

And  meditate  on  scenes  more  silent  still ; 

Pursue  my  theme,  and  fight  the  fear  of  death. 

Here,  like  a  shepherd  gazing  from  his  hut, 

Touching  his  reed,  or  leaning  on  his  staff, 

Eager  ambition's  fiery  chase  I  see; 

T  see  the  circling  hunt  of  noisy  men 

Eurst  law's  inclosure,  leap  the  mounds  of  right, 

Pursuing  and  pursu'd,  each  other's  prey  ; 

As  wolves  for  rapine,  as  the  fox  for  wiles, 

Till  death,  that  mighty  hunter,  earths  them  ail. 

"Why  all  this  toil  for  triiiraphs  of  an  hour? 
What  tho'  we  wade  in  wealth  or  soar  in  fame 
Earth's  hurhest  station  ends  in.  "  here  he  lies  ;" 
And  '•  dust  to  dust,"  concludes  her  noblest  eong. 
If  this  song  lives,  posterity  shall  know 
One,  tho'  in  Britain  born,  with  courtiers  bred, 
Who  thought  e'en  gold  might  come  a  day  too  late, 
Nor  on  his  subtle  death-bed  plann'd  his  Bcherae 
For  future  vacancies  in  church  or  state, 
Some  avocation  deeming  it — to  die  : 
I "nbit  by  rage  canine  of  dying  rich  ; 
Guilt's  blunder  !  and  the  Inndest  laugh  of  Hell. 

O  my  coevals  I  remnantsof  yourselves  I 
Poor  human  ruins  tott-ring  o'er  the  grave  I 
Shall  we,  shall  aged  men,  like  aged  trees, 
Strike  deeper  their  vile  root,  and  closer  cling', 
Still  more  enamour'd  of  this  ^v retched  soiif 


xni  cnRisTiAK  TBiCiirn.  69 

Shall  our  pale  wither'd  hands  be  stil!  stretch'd  out, 
Trerubiing,  at  once,  with  eagerness  and  Ur-^' ! 
"With  av'rice  and  convulsions,  grasfjing  hard  ? 
Grasping  at  air  !  for  what  has  earth  beside? 
IVIan  wants  but  little,  nor  that  little  long: 
How  •soon  must  he  resign  his  very  dust, 
"Which  frugal  Nature  lent  h-ra  for  an  hour 
Years  unexperienc'ti  vxx^h  ^jd  narj'rou3  ills  ; 
And  soon  as  man,  expert  Trom  time,  has  foun<i 
The  key  of  life,  it  opes  the  gates  of  death. 

When  in  this  7ale  of  years  I  backward  look, 
And  mi?s  such  number'',  numbers  too,  of  such, 
Firmer  in  health,  and  greener  in  their  age, 
And  stricter  on  their  guard,  and  fitter  far  « 
To  play  life's  subtle  game,  I  scarce  believe 
I  still  survive.     And  ara  I  fond  of  life, 
Who  scarce  can  think  it  possible  1  live? 
Alive  by  miracle!  or,  what  is  next. 
Alive  by  Mead  !  If  i  am  still  alive, 
Who  long  have  bnry'd  what  gives  life  to  live^ 
Firmness  of  nerve,  and  energy  of  thought. 
Life's  lee  rs  not  more  fhalluw  than  impure 
And  vapid  :  Sense  and  Reason  shew  the  door 
Call  for  my  bier,  and  point  me  to  the  dust 

O  thou  great  Arbiter  of  life  and  deatli ! 
Xature'3  immortal,  immaterial  gun  ! 
Whose  all  proline  beam  late  cali'd  me  forth. 
From  darkness,  teeming  darknegg,  where  I  lay 
The  worms  inferior  ;  and,  in  rank,  beneath 
The  dust  I  tread  on  ;  high  to  bear  my  brow. 
To  drink  the  spirit  of  the  golden  day, 
And  triumph  in  ixistence  ;  and  could  know 


fO  THB  COMPLAINT. 

No  motive  but  my  bliss  ;  and  hast  orc'ainM 
A  rise  in  biepsing  I     with  the  patriarch's  joy 
Thy  call  1  foJiaw  to  the  land  unknown: 
I  ivu?t  in  tbee,  and  know  in  whom  I  trust : 
Or  life  or  deatli  is  equal  ;  neither  weighs  ; 
All  weight  in  this — (J  let  me  li^ve  to  thee ! 

Thn'  Nature's  terrors  thus  may  be  represt. 
J?till  frowns  grira  Death  ;  guilt  points  the  tyrant's 

spear. 
And  whence  all  human  guilt?  From  death  forgot- 
Ah  me  !  too  long  I  set  at  nought  the  swarm 
Of  friendly  warnings  which  around  rae  flew, 
And  smil'd  unsmitten.     Small  my  cause  to  smile ! 
Death's  admonitions,  like  shafts  upward  shot, 
More  dreadful !  by  delay,  the  longer  ere 
They  strike  our  hearts,  the  deeper  is  their  wound. 
O  think  how  deep,  Lorenzo  I  here  it  stings; 
Who  can  appease  its  anguish  ?  How  it  burns? 
What  hand  the  barb'd,  envenom'd,  tho't  can  draw  ? 
What  healing  hand  can  pour  the  balm  of  peace, 
And  turn  ray  sight  undaunted  on  the  tomb  ? 

With  joy, — with  grief,  that  healing  hand  I  see  : 
Ab  !  too  conspicuous  !  it  is  fix'd  on  high, 
On  high  ? — what  means  ray  frenzy  ?  I  blaspheme  ? 
Alas  I  how  low  !  how  far  beneath  the  skies ! 
The  skies  it  form'd,  and  now  it  bleeds  for  me — 
But  bleeds  the  balm  I  want — yet  still  it  bleeds ; 
Draw  the  dire  steel — ah  no  !  the  dreadful  blessing 
What  heart  or  can  sustain,  or  dares  forego  ? 
There  hangs  all  human  hope;  that  nail  supports 
The  falling  universe  :  that  gone,  we  drop  ; 
Horror  receives  us,  and  the  dismal  wish 


THE  CHRISTIAN  TBIUilPH.  7l 

Creation  had  been  smolherM  in  her  birth — 
Darkness  his  curtain,  and  his  bed  the  dust; 
"When  stars  and  sun  are  dust  beneath  his  throne  ! 
In  heav'ii  itself  can  such  indulgence  dwell  ? 
O  wliat  a  groan  was  there  ?  a  groan  nut  his: 
He  seiz'd  our  dreadful  right,  the  load  sustained, 
And  heav'd  the  mountain  from  a  guilty  world. 
A  thousand  worlds  so  bought,  were  bought  too  dear; 
Sensations  new  in  angel's  bosoms  rise, 
Suspend  their  song,  and  make  a  pause  in  bliss. 

O  for  their  song  to  reach  my  lofty  theme  ! 
Inspire  me,  Night  1  with  all  thy  tuneful  spheres, 
Much  rather  thou  who  dost  these  spheres  inspire  ! 
Whilst  I  with  si^raphs  share  serapiiic  themes, 
And  shew  to  men  the  dignity  of  man, 
Lest  I  blaspheme  my  subject  with  my  song, 
Shall  Pagan  pages  glow  celestial  flame, 
And  Christian  languish  ?  On  our  hearts,  not  heads^ 
Falls  the  foul  infamy.     ^ly  heart,  awake  : 
What  can  awake  thee,  unawak'd  by  this, 
"  Expended  Deity  on  human  weal  i"' 
Feel  the  great  truths  which  burst  the  tenfold  night 
Of  heathen  error,  with  a  golden  flood 
Of  endless  day.    To  feel  is  to  be  fir'd  ; 
And  to  believe,  Lorenzo,  is  to  feel. 

Thou  most  indulgent,  most  tremendous  Pow'r  i 
Still  more  tremendous  for  thy  wond'rous  love; 
That  arms  with  awe  more  awful  thy  commands, 
And  foul  transgression  dipt  in  sevenfold  guilt ; 
How  our  hearts  tremble  at  thy  love  immense  I 
In  love  Immense,  inviolably  Just  I 
Thou  I  rather  than  thy  justice  should  be  stain-d, 


72  '       3iIE    COMPLAIXT. 

Didst  gtain  the  cross ;  and,  werk  of  wonders  far 
The  u'l'putest,  that  thy  dearest  far  miijht  bleed. 

Bold  thought  I  shall  I  dare  speak  it  or  repress  ? 
Should  man  more  execrate  or  boast  the  guilt 
Which  rous'd  such  vengeance?  which  such  love  in- 

fiaoiM  ! 
O'er  guilt  (bow  mountainous!)  with  outstretchM  arms 
Stern  Justice,  and  soft-smiling  Love,  embrace, 
Supporting,  In  full  fnajesty,  thy  throne, 
When  seemM  its  majesty  to  need  support, 
Or  that,  or  man,  inevitably  lost; 
What  but  the  fathomless  of  thought  divine 
Could  labour  such  expedient  from  despair, 
And  rescue  both  ?  Beth  rescue  !  both  exalt  I 
O  how  are  both  exalted  by  the  deed  ? 
The  wondVous  deed  !  or  shall  I  call  it  more  ? 
A  wonder  in  Omnipotence  itself  I 
A  my.«tery,  no  less  to  gods  than  men  ! 

Not  thus  our  infidels  th'  Eternal  draw 
A  God  all  o'er  coiisumjiiate,  absolute, 
Full  orb'd,  iu  his  whole  round  of  rays  complete; 
They  set  at  odds  Heav'n's  jarring  attributes. 
And  with  one  excellence,  another  wound  ; 
Maim  heav'a's  perfection,  break  its  equal  beams, 
Bid  Dercy  triumph  over — God  himself, 
UndeifyM  by  their  opprobrious  praise  ; 
A  God  all  mercy  is  a  God  unjust. 
Ye  brainless  wits  !  ye  baptiz'd  infidels  ! 
Ye  v,'orbe  for  mending  !  wash'd  to  fouler  stains  5 
The  ransom  was  paid  down  ;  the  fund  of  heav'n, 
Heaven's  inexhaustible,  exhausted  fund, 
Amazing  and  amaz'd,  pour'd  forth  the  price^ 


THE  CTIRISTI  AN  TRIUMPH.  73 

Al!  price  beyond  ;  tho'  curious  to  compute, 
Archangels  fail'd  to  cast  the  mighty  sum; 
Its  value  vast  ungra>p"d  by  minds  create, 
For  ever  hides  and  glows  in  the  Supreme. 

And  was  the  ransom  paid  ?  It  \va?,  and  paid 
(What  can  exalt  the  bounty  more)  for  you. 
The  sun  beheld  it — No,  the  shocking  scene 
Drove  back  his  chariot ;   Midnight  veil'd  his  face ; 
JNot  such  as  this,  not  such  as  nature  makes  ; 
A  midnight  Nature  shudder'd  to  behold  ; 
A  midnight  new!  a  dread  eclipse  (without 
Opposing  sphere?)  from  her  Creator's  frovrn  !* 
Sun  !  didst  thou  fly  thy  31aker's  pain  ?  or  start 
At  that  enormous  load  of  human  guilt 
Which  bow'd  his  blessed  head,  o'erwhelm'd  his  crosf. 
Made  groan  the  centre,  burst  earth's  marble  womb 
With  pangs,  strange  pangs !  deliver'd  of  her  dead  ? 
Hell  how  I'd  ;  and  heav'n  that  hour  let  fall  a  tear ; 
Heav'n  wept,  that  men  might  smile  I  Heav'n  bled 

that  man 
Might  never  die  ?— — 

And  is  devotion  Virtue  ?  'Tis  conjpelPd. 
What  heart  of  stone  but  glows  attho'ts  like  these? 
Much  contemplations  mount  us,  and  should  mount 
The  mind  still  higher,  nor  e'er  glance  on  man 
Unraptur'd,  uninflara'd. — Where  roll  my  thoughts 
To  rest  from  wonders  I  other  wonders  rise, 
And  strike  w^here'er  they  roll ;  my  soul  is  caught ; 
Heav'n's  sov'reign  blessings  elust'ring  from  the  cross, 
Rnsh  on  her  in  a  throng,  and  close  her  round 
The  prisoner  of  amaze  I — In  his  blest  life 
I  sse  the  path,  and  in  his  death  the  price, 


74'  THECOMPLAiNt. 

And  in  his  great  ascent  the  proof  supreme 
Of  imvnortality — And  did  he  rise? 
Hear,  O  ye  Nations  1  Hear  it,  O  ye  Dead ! 
He  rose,  he  rose  !  he  burst  the  bars  of  death. 
J.ift  up  your  heads,  ye  everlasting  gates  1 
And  give  tlie  Iviiig  of  Glory  to  come  in. 
Who  is  the  iiing  of  Glory  ?  He  who  left 
His  throue  of  glory  for  the  pang  of  death. 
Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  everlasting  gates, 
And  ^ve  the  King  of  Glory  to  comeio. 
"Who  is  the  iving  of  Glory  ?  He  who  slew 
The  rav'nousfoe  tbat  gorg'd  all  humnn  race! 
The  King  of  Glory  he,  whose  glory  fjll'd 
Heav'n  with  amazement  at  his  love  to  man  ; 
And  with  divine  cunipiacency  beheld 
Po w'rs  most  illumm'd  wilder'd  in  the  theme. 

The  theme,  the  joy,  how  then  shall  man  sustain  ? 
Oh  theburstgates  I  crush'd  sting  lUernolish'd  throne  ' 
Last  gasp!  of  vanquish'd  death.    Shout,  earth  and 

heav'n, 
This  8um  of  good  to  mv^n  1  whose  nature  then 
Took  wing,  and  mounted  with  him  from  the  tomb. 
Thea,  then,  I  rose;  then  lirst  humanity 
Trinraphanl  passM  the  crystal  ports  of  light, 
(StUT'cndous  gnestl)  and  seiz'd  eternal  youth, 
Seiz'd  in  our  name.     E'er  since  'tis  blasphemous 
To  call  man  mortal.     Man's  mortality 
"Was  then  transfer'd  to  death  ;  and  heav'n's  duration 
Unalienably  seal'dto  this  frail  frame, 
This  child  of  dnst — Man,  all-immortal!  hail; 
Hail.   Heav'n.  all  lavish  of  strange  gifts  to  man  ! 
Thine  all  the  glory,  man's  the  boundless  bliss. 


THE  enRi3TiA.NT!iirMrn.  75 

Where  ara  I  wrapt  by  tlils  triuranliant  theme, 
Oa  C  Ijnstian  Joy's  exulting  wing,  above 
rh'  Afniiaii  Qio:jnt! — Vlas  sinal!  cause  for  joy  1 
What  if  to  pain  iinmoital!  if  extent 
Of  being,  to  preclude  a  close  of  woe  ? 
Where,  then,  aiy  boast  of  imraoriality  ? 
I  boast  it  still,  tho'  cover'd  o'er  with  guilt ; 
For  guiU,  not  innocence,  his  life  he  pourM  ; 
'Tis  guilt  alone  can  justify  his  death  ; 
Nor  that,  unless  his  death  can  justily. 
Relenting  guilt  in  heav'n's  indulgent  sight. 
If  sick  of  folly  I  relent,  he  writes 
>Iy  nac&e  in  heav'n  with  that  inverted  fpcar 
{A  speardcep-tip't  in  blood  1)  which  pierc'd  his  tide, 
And  open'd  there  a  font  for  all  mankind, 
Who  strive,  who  combat  crimes,  to  drink  and  live  : 
This,  only  this,  subdues  tfee  fear  of  death. 

And  what  is  this  ? — survey  the  wond'rous  cars  * 
And  at  each  step  let  higher  wonder  rise  I 
*'  Pardon  for  inrinitc  offence  I  and  pardon 
'•  Thro'  means  that  speak  its  value  infinite ! 
"  A  pardon  bought  with  blood  !  with  blood  divine  I 
"  With  blood  divine  of  him  I  made  my  foe  ! 
t'  Persisted  to  provoke  !  tho'  woo'd  and  aw'd, 
k'  Bless'il  and  chastis'd,  a  flagrant  rebel  stiil  : 
"  A  lebel  'midst  the  thunders  of  his  throne  I 
"  Nor  I  alone!  a  rebel  universe! 
**  My  species  op  in  arms !  not  one  exempt  I 
"Yet  for  the  foulest  of  the  foul  he  dies ; 
**  Most  joy 'd  for  the  redeem'd  from  deepest  guilt  t 
**  As  if  our  race  were  held  of  highest  rank, 
*  And  Godhead  dearer  as  more  kind  to  man  T' 


75  THE    COMPLAINT. 

Bound  evVy  heart,  and  ev'ry  bosom  barn! 
O  what  a  scale  of  mlraelesis  here! 
Its  lowest  roimd  b:i:^i  phmted  on  the  skies ; 
Its  tow'ring  summit  lost  beyond  the  thought 
Of  man  or  angel !  Oh  that  I  could  climb 
The  wonderful  ascent  with  equal  praise ! 
Praise  !  flow  forever  (if  astonishment 
"Will  give  thee  leave)  my  praise  i  for  ever  flow ; 
Praise  ardent,  cordial,  constant,  to  high  heav'n 
More  fragrant  than  Arabia  sacrific'd, 
And  all  her  Sj)icy  mountains  in  a  flame. 

So  dear,  so  due  to  Heav'n,  shall  praise  descend 
"With  her  soft  plurae  (from  plausive  angels  wing 
First  pluck'd  by  man)  to  tickle  mortal  ears, 
Thus  diving  in  the  pockets  of  the  great  ? 
Is  praise  the  perquisite  of  ev'ry  pav/, 
Tho'  black  as  hell  that  grapples  well  for  gold  P 
O  love  of  gold  thou  meanest  of  amours  ! 
Shall  praise  her  odours  waste  on  virtue's  dead  ; 
liimbalm  the  base,  perfume  the  stench  of  guilt, 
lEaru  dirty  bread  by  washing  Ethiops  fair, 
Removing  filth,  or  sinking  it  from  sight, 
A  scavenger  in  scenes,  where  vacant  posts 
Like  gibbets  yet  untenanted,  expect 
Their  future  ornaments?  From  courts  and  throne& 
Return,  apostate  Praise  !  thou  vagabond  ! 
Thou  prostitute  !  to  thy  first  love  return  ; 
Thy  first,  thy  greatest,  once  unrival'd  theme. 

There  flow  redundant,  like  Meander  flow. 
Back  to  thy  fountain,  to  that  parent  pow'r 
Who  gives  the  tongue  to  sound,  the  thought  to  soar, 
Tkt  soul  to  b«.    Men  homage  pay  to  men ; 


THE  CHRISTIAN  TJRIUMPH.  77 

Thoughtless  beneath  whose  dreadful  eye  they  bow. 
In  mutual  awe  profound,  of  clay  to  clay. 
Of  guilt  to  guilt,  and  turn  their  backs  on  thee, 
Great  Sire  I  whom  thrones  eelestial  ceaseless  sing, 
To  prostrate  angels  an  amazing  «cene  ! 
O  the  piesuiuption  of  man's  awe  for  man  I — 
Mail's  Author,  End,  K^storer,  Law,  and  Judge! 
Thine,  all ;  day  thine,  and  thine  this  glnona  of  night, 
Willi  all  her  wealth,  with  all  her  radiant  worlds, 
What,  night  eternal,  but  a  frown  from  thee  ? 
What  heav'n's  meridian  glory  but  thy  smile  ? 
And  shall  not  praise  be  thine,  not  human  praise,      * 
While  heaven's  high  ho?t  on  hallelujahs  live? 

O  raay  I  breathe  no  longer  than  I  breathe 
My  soul  in  praise  to  niM  who  gave  my  soul, 
And  all  her  infinite  of  prospect  fair, 
€ut  thro'  the  shades  of  hell,  great  Love  I  by  thee 
Oh  most  adorable  I  mo^t  uaador'd  I 
Where  shall  that  praise  begin  which  ne'ershould  end? 
"Where'er  I  turn,  what  claim  on  al  1  applause ! 
How  is  Night's  sable  mantle  iabourM  o'er. 
How  richly  wrought  with  attributp»>  divine  ! 
What  wisdom  shines!  what  love  I  This  midnight 

pomp, 
This  gorgeous  arch,  with  golden  vrorlds  inlaid  I 
Built  with  divine  ambition  I  nought  to  thee  ; 
For  others  this  profusion.     Thou,  apart. 
Above,  beyond.  Oh  tell  me,  miglity  ^lind  ! 
Where  art  thou  ?  Shall  I  dive  into  the  deep  ? 
C*ll  to  ihe  sun?  or  ask  the  roaring  winds  ' 

For  tlieir  Creator  ?  Shall  I  question  loud 
The  thunder,  if  ia  that  th'  Almighty  dwell? P 


78  THE  C03IPLAINT. 

Or  holds  HE  furious  storinp  in  straiten'd  reiae, 
And  biflls  fierce  whirlwinds  wheel  hie  rapid  car? 

What   mean  these  questions  ! — Trembliog  I  re- 
tract ; 
My  pro$:trat€  soul  adores  the  present  God  : 
Praise  I  a  distant  Deity  ?  He  tunes 
3Iy  voice  (if  tun'd  :)  the  nerve  that  writes  sustains 
Wrapped  in  his  being  I  resound  hig  praise  : 
But  tbo'  past  all  difFus'd,  without  a  shore 
His  essence,  local  is  his  throne  (as  meet) 
To  gather  the  disperse  (as  standards  cali 
The  listed  from  afar !)  to  fix  a  point, 
A  central  point,  collective  of  his  sons, 
Since  finite  ev'ry  nature  but  his  own. 

The  nameless  he,  whose  nod  is  Nature's  birth, 
Ana  Nature's  shield  the  shadow  of  his  hand; 
Her  dissolution,  his  suspended  smile  ! 
The  great  First-Last  !  pavillion'd  liigk  he  sits 
In  darkness  from  excessive  splecdour,  borne, 
By  gods  unseen,  unless  thro'  lustre  lost. 
His  glory,  to  created  glory  bright 
As  that  to  eentral  horrors  :  he  looks  down 
On  all  that  soars,  and  spans  immensity. 

Tho'  night  unnumber'd  worlds  unfolds  to  view, 
Boundless  creation  ?  what  art  thou  ?  a  beam, 
A  mere  effluvium  of  his  majesty. 
And  shall  an  atom  of  this  atom-werld 
Mutter,  in  dust  and  sin,  the  theme  of  heav'n  ! 
Down  to  the  centre  should  I  send  my  thought, 
Thro'  beds  of  glitt'ring  ore  and  glowing  gems, 
Their  beggared  blaze  wants  lustre  for  my  lay; 
Goes  out  in  darkness ;  if  on  tovt-'riog  v/ing, 


THE    CHRISTIAN    TRITTMPH.  70 

T  send  it  thro'  the  boundless  vault  of  stars, 
(The  stars,  tho'  rich,  what  dross  their  gold  to  Thee, 
Great,  good,  wise,  woaderful,  eternal  Ivinj  !) 
If  to  those  conscious  stars  thy  throne  around, 
Praise  ever-pouring,  and  imbibing  bliss, 
And  ask  their  strain  ;  they  want  it.  more  they  want, 
Poor  their  abundance,  humble  their  sublime, 
Languid  their  energy,  their  ardour  cold: 
Indebted  still,  their  highest  rapture  burns, 
Short  of  its  mark,  defeclive,  tho'  divine. 

Still  more — this  theme  is  man's,  and  man's  alone  ; 
Their  wast  appointments  reach  it  not;  they  see 
On  earth  a  bounty  not  indulg'd  on  high, 
And  downward  look  for  heav'n's  superior  praise  ! 
First-born  of  Ether  I  high  in  fields  ©f  light ! 
View  man,  to  see  the  glory  of  your  God  ! 
Could  angels  envy,  they  had  envy'd  here: 
And  some  did  envy :  aud  the  rest,  tho'  gods. 
Yet  still  gods  unredeem'd  (there  triumphs  man. 
Tempted  to  weigh  the  dust  against  the  skies) 
They  less  w'ould  feel,  tho'  more  adorn  ray  theme. 
They  sung  creation  (  for  in  that  they  shar'd  ;) 
How  rose  in  melody  that  child  of  Love  ! 
Creation's  great  superior,  man  !  is  thine; 
Thine  is  redemption  :  they  just  gave  the  kej, 
*ris  thine  to  raise  and  eternize  the  song, 
Tho'  human,  yet  divine  ;  for  should  not  this 
Raise  man  o'er  man,  and  kindle  seraph?  here? 
Redemption  !  'twas  creation  more  sublime  ; 
Redemption  !  'twas  the  labour  of  the  i^kies-' 
Far  more  than  labour — it  was  death  in  heaven, 
A  truth  so  strange,  'twere  bold  to  thiak  it  truer, 
If  not  far  bolder  still  to  disbelieve. 


80  THE  COMPLAIKT. 

Here  pause  antlpomier.  Was  there  death  in  hev'n? 
"What  then  on  earth  ?  en  earth,  which  struck   the 

blow  ? 
Who  struck  it  ?  Who  ? — O  how  is  man  enlarg'd, 
Seen  thio'  this  raetlium  :  How  the  piginy  toWrs; 
How  counterpoisM  his  origin  from  dust ! 
How  counterpois'd  to  dust  his  sad  return  I 
How  voided  his  vasi  distance  froju  the  skies ! 
How  near  he  presses  on  the  seraph's  wing  ! 
Which  is  the  seraph?  Which  the  born  of  clay? 
How  this  demonstrates,  thro'  the  thickest  cloud 
Of  guilt  and  clay  condensed,  the  ^on  of  Heav'n  ! 
The  double  San  ;  the  niaiie,  and  the  re-made  ! 
And  -<hall  Heav'ns  double  property  be  lost  ? 
Man's  double  madness  only  can  destroy. 
To  man  the  bleeding  Gross  has  proinis'd  all  ; 
The  bleeding  Cross  has  sworn  eternal  grace. 
Who  gave  his  life,  what  grace  shall  he  deny  ? 
O  ye,  who  from  this  rock  of  ages  leap, 
Apostates,  pluiiging  headlong  in  the  deep  ! 
What  cordial  joy,  what  consolation  strong, 
Whatever  winds  arise,  or  billows  roll, 
Or  int'rest  in  the  Master  of  the  storm  ! 
Cling  there,  and  in  wreck'd  Nature's  ruin  smile. 
While  vile  Apostates  tremble  in  a  calm. 

Man,  know  thyself,  all  wisdom  centres  there. 
To  none  man  seems  ignoble  but  to  man. 
Angels  that  grandeur,  men  o'erlook,  admire; 
How  lo'ig  shall  human  nature  be  their  book, 
Degenerate  mortal !  and  unread  by  thee  ? 
The  beam  dim  reason  sheds  shews  wonders  there  : 
What  biih  contents  !  illustrious  faculties  I 


THE    CHKISTIAN    TRirilPH-  81 

Batihe  grand  comment  which  displays  at  full 
Our  human  height,  scarce  sever'd  from  divine, 
By  heav'n  compos'd,  was  publish'd  on  the  Cross. 

Who  looks  on  that,  and  sees  not  in  himself 
An  awful  stranger,  a  terrestial  God  ? 
A  glorious  partner  with  the  Deity 
In  that  high  attribute,  irnraortal  life? 
If  a  God  bleeds,  he  bleeds  not  for  a  worm. 
I  gaze,  and  as  I  gaze  ray  mounting  soul 
Catches  strange  lire.     Eternity  I  at  thee. 
And  drops  the  world — or,  rather,  more  enjoys, 
How  chang'd  the  face  of  Nature  I  how  improvM  '. 
What  seem'd  a  chaos,  shines  a  glorious  world, 
Or,  what  a  world,  an  Eden  ;  heighteu'd  all  I 
It  is  another  scene,  another  self  I 
And  jtill  another,  as  time  rolls  along, 
And  that  a  self,  far  more  illustrious  still. 
ISeyond  long  age?,  yet  roll'd  up  in  shades 
Unpieic'd  by  bold  conjectures  keenest  ray, 
What  evolutions  of  surprising  fate  I 
How  Nature  opens,  and  receives  my  soul 
In  boundless  walks  of  raptur'd  thought !  where  gode 
E'- 'counter  and  embrace  me  !  What  new  births 
Of  strange  adventure,  foreign  to  the  sun  ; 
Where  what  now  charms,  perhaps  whate'er  cxistE 
Old  time,  and  fair  creation,  are  forgot! 

Is  this  extravagant  ?  of  man  we  form 
Extravagant  conception  to  be  just: 
Conception  unconfin'd  wants  wings  to  reach  him  ; 
Beyond  its  reach  the  Godhead  only  more. 
He  the  great  Father  !  kindled  at  one  flame 
The  world  of  rationalsj  one  spirit  pour'd 
E 


82  THE  COMPLAINT. 

From  spirit's  awful  fountain  ;  poui'd  himself 
Thro'  all  tlieir  souls,  but  not  an  equal  stream  ; 
Profuse,  or  frugal,  of  th'  inspiring  God. 
As  his  wise  plan  deraaniletl  ;  and  when  past 
Their  various  trials,  in  their  various  spheres, 
ff  they  continue  rational,  as  made, 
Resorbs  them  all  into  himself  again. 
His  throne  their  centre,  and  his  smile  their  crown. 

Why  doubt  we,  then,  the  glorious  truth  to  sing, 
Tho'  yet  unsung,  as  deem'd,  perhaps,  too  bold  ? 
A  ngels  are  raen  of  a  superior  kind  ; 
Angels  are  men  in  lighter  habit  clad, 
High  o'er  celestial  mountains  wlng'd  in  flight ; 
And  men  are  angels'  loaded  for  an  hour, 
Who  wade  this  miry  vale,  and  climb  with  pain, 
And  slipp'ry  step,  the  bottom  of  the  steep. 
Angels  their  failings,  mortals  have  their  praise; 
%yhile  here,  of  corps  ethereal,  such  enroll'd, 
And  summon'd  to  the  glorious  standard  soon, 
Which  flames  eternal  crimson  thro'  the  skies; 
iNor  are  our  brothers  thoughtless  of  their  kin, 
Yet  absent;  but  not  absent  from  their  love. 
Michael  has  fought  our  battles  ;  Raphael  sung 
Our  triumphs;  Gabriel  on  our  errands  flown, 
Sent  by  the  Sov'reign  :  and  are  these,  O  man 
Thy  friends,  thy  warm  allies  ?  and  thou  (shame  buro 
The  cheek  to  cinder  I)  rival  to  the  brute? 

Religion's  all.    Descending  from  the  skies 
To  wretched  man,  the  goddess  in  her  left 
Holds  out  this  world,  and  in  her  right  the  next. 
Religion  !  the  sole  voucher  man  is  man  ; 
Supporter  sole  of  man  above  himself  ^ 


THE  CHRISTIAH   TRIUMPH.  83 

E'en  in  this  night  of  frailty,  change  and  death, 
She  gives  the  soul  a  soul  that  acts  a  god. 
Religion'.  Providence!  an  after-state  I 
Here  is  firm  footing;  here  is  solid  rock  ; 
This  can  support  us  ;  all  is  sea  besides : 
Sinks  under  us;  bestorms,  and  then  devours. 
His  hand  the  good  man  fastens  on  the  skies, 
And  bids  earth  rool,  nor  feels  her  idle  whirl. 

As  when  a  wretch,  from  thick  polluted  air, 
Darkness  and  stench,  and  suiTocatiug  darapp, 
And  dungeon-horrors,  by  kind  fate  discharg'd, 
Climbs  some  fair  eminence,  where  ether  pure 
Surrounds  iiim,  and  Elysian  prospects  rise, 
His  heart  exults,  his  spirits  cast  their  load, 
As  if  new-born  he  triumphs  in  the  change  I 
So  joys  the  snul,  when  from  inglorious  aims 
And  sordid  sweets  from  feculence  and  froth, 
Of  ties  terrestrial  set  at  large,  she  mounts 
To  Reason's  region,  her  own  element, 
Breathes  ho[)es  immortal,  and  affects  the  skies. 

Religon  !  thou  the  soul  of  happiness. 
And,  groaning  Calvary,  of  thee,  there  shine 
The  noblest  truths;  there  strongest  motives  sting; 
There  sacred  violence  assaults  the  soul ; 
There  nothing  but  compulsion  is  forborn. 
Can  love  allure  us  ?  or  can  terror  awe  ? 
He  weeps  ! — the  falling  drop  puts  out  the  sun. 
He  sighs  !  the  sigh  earth's  deep  foundation  shakeF. 
If  in  his  love  so  terrible,  what  then 
His  wrath  inflam'd  ?  his  tenderness  on  fire  ? 
liike  softsmoothe  oil,  ouiblazing  other  fires? 
Can  pray'r,  can  praise  avert  it? — Thou,  my  all 


84  THE  COMPLAINT. 

My  theme  !  my  inspiration  !  and  my  crown  ! 
My  strenth  in  age  I  my  rise  in  low  estate  ! 
My  soul's  ambition,  pleasure,  wealth  1  my  world  ! 
My  light  in  darkness  I  and  my  life  in  death  I 
My  boast  thro'  time !  bliss  thro'  eternity  J 
Eternity,  too  short  to  speak  thy  praise, 
Or  fathom  tliy  profound  of  love  to  man  I 
To  man  of  men  the  meanest,  ev'n  to  me  ; 
My  sacrifice  !  my  God  ! — what  things  are  these ! 
What  then  art  Thou  ?  By  what  name  shall  I  call 
thee  ? 
Knew  I  the  name  devout  archangels  use, 
Devout  archangels  should  the  name  enjoy. 
By  me  unrivall'd  ;  thousands  more  sublime, 
None  half  so  dear  as  that  which  tho'unspoke, 
Still  glows  at  heart.     O  how  omnipotence 
Is  lost  in  love  !  thou  great  Phila  ivthropist  ! 
Father  of  angels  !  but  the  friend  of  man  I 
Like  Jacob,  fondest  of  the  younger  born  ! 
Thou  who  didst  save  him,  snatch  the  smoaking  brand 
From  out  the  flames,  and  quench  it  in  thy  blood  ! 
How  art  thou  pleas'd  by  bounty  to  distress  I 
To  make  us  groan  beneath  onr  gratitude, 
Too  big  for  birth  !  to  favour  and  confound ; 
To  challenge,  and  to  distance  all  return  I 
Of  lavish  love  stupendous  heights  to  soar, 
And  leave  praise  panting  in  the  distant  vale  ! 
Thy  right  too  great  defrauds  thee  of  thy  due, 
And  sacrilegious  our  sublimest  song.. 
But  since  the  naked  will  obtains  thy  smile, 
Beneath  this  monument  of  praise  unpaid, 
And  future  life  sympbonious  to  my  strair. 


THE    CHRISTIAN    TBItTMPH.  85 

(That  noblest  hymn  to  Heaven  !)  for  ever  lie 
Intomb'd  my  fear  of  death  !  and  ev'ry  fear, 
The  dread  of  ev'ry  evil  but  thy  frown. 

AVhom  see  I  yonder  so  demurely  smile? 
Laughter  a  labour,  and  might  break  their  rest : 
Ye  Q.uietists,  in  homage  to  the  skies  I 
Serene  !  of  soft  address  I  who  mildly  make 
An  unobtrusive  tender  of  yonr  hearts. 
Abhorring  violencp.'  who  halt  indeed  ; 
But,  for  the  blessing,  wrestle  not  with  Heav'n  I 
Think  you  my  song  too  turbulent  ?  too  warm  I 
Are  passions,  then,  the  pagans  of  the  soul  ? 
Reason  alone  baptiz'd  !  alone  ordained 
To  touch  things  sacred  ?  Oh  for  warmer  still ! 
Guilt  chills  ray  zeal,  and  age  benumbs  my  powers  ;  . 
Oh  for  an  humbler  heart  and  prouder  song  I 
Thou,  my  much-injur'd  theme  !  with  that  soft  eye 
AVhich  melted  o'er  doora'd  Salem,  deign  to  look 
Compassion  to  the  coldness  of  my  breast, 
And  pardon  to  the  winter  in  my  strain. 

Oh  ye  cold-hearted,  frozen  formalists! 
On  such  a  theme  'tis  impious  to  be  calm  ; 
Passion  ig  reason,  transport  temper,  here 
Shall  Heav'n,  which  gave  us  ardour,  and  has  shewn 
Her  own  for  man  so  strongly,  not  disdain 
"What  smooth  emollients  in  theology, 
Recumbent  virtue's  downy  doctors  preach, 
That  prose  of  piety,  a  lukewarm  praise  ? 
Rise  odours  sweet  from  incense  uninllam'd  ? 
Devotion,  when  lukewarm,  is  undevout? 
But  when  it  glows,  its  heal  is  struck  to  heav'n; 
To  human  hearts  her  golden  harp  are  strung; 
High  Heav'n'i  orcheetrb  chants  Amen  to  man. 


86  THE  COMPLAINT. 

Hear  I,  or  dream  I  hear,  their  distant  strain. 
Sweet  to  the  soul  and  tasting  strong  of  heav'n, 
Soft  wafted  on  celestial  Pity's  plume, 
Thro'  the  vast  spaces  of  the  universe, 
To  cheer  me  in  this  melancholy  gloom? 
Oh  when  will  death  (now  stingiess)  like  a  friend, 
Admit  me  of  their  choir  ?  Oh  when  will  death 
This  mould'ring,  old  partition-wall,  throw  down  ? 
Give  beings,  one  in  nature,  one  abode  ? 
Oh  death  divine  !  that  giv'st  us  to  the  skies ! 
Great  future  !  glorious  patron  of  the  past 
And  prese.'itj  when  shall  I  thy  shrine  adore? 
From  Nature's  continent  iraraensely  wide. 
Immensely  blest,  this  little  isle  of  life, 
This  dark  incarcerating  colony 
Divides  us.     Happy  day  that  breaks  our  chain  ! 
That  manumits  ;  that  calls  from  exile  home ; 
That  leads  to  Nature's  great  metropolis, 
And  re-adinitsus,  thro'  the  guai'dian  hand 
Of  elder  brothers,  to  our  Father's  throne, 
"Who  hears  our  advocate,  and  thro'  his  wounds 
Beholding  man,  allows  that  tender  name. 
'Tis  this  makes  Christian  triumph  a  command  ; 
'Tis  this  makes  joy  a  duty  to  the  wise. 
'Tis  impious  in  a  good  man  to  be  sad. 

Seest  thou,  Lorenzo,  where  hangs  all  our  hope? 
Touch'd  by  the  cross  we  live,  or  more  than  die  ; 
That  touch  which  touch'd  not  angels:  more  divine 
Than  that  which  touch'd  confusion  into  form, 
And  darkness  into  glory:   partial  touch  ! 
Ineffably  pre-eminent  regard ! 
^aored  to  man,  and  sov'reign  thro'  the  wkole 


THE    CHRISTIAN    TRICMIH.  (i  7 

Long  golden  chain  of  miracles  which  hangs 
From  heavn  through  all  duration,  and  supports 
In  one  illustrious  and  amazing  plan, 
Thy  welfare,  Nature,  and  thy  gods  renown  ; 
That  touch,  which  charm  celestial,  heals  the  soul 
DiseasM,  drives  pain  from  guilt,  lights  life  in  death, 
Turns  earth  to  heav'n,  to  heavenly  thrones  transforms 
The  ghastly  ruins  of  the  moul'ring  tomb. 

Dost  ask  me  when  ?  When  he  who  dyVl  returns  ; 
Returns,  how  chang'd  !  where  then  the  man  of  woe  ? 
In  glory's  terrors  all  the  Godhead  burns, 
And  all  his  courts  exhausted  by  the  tide 
Of  deities  triumphant  in  his  train, 
Leave  a  stupendous  solitude  in  heav'n  ; 
Replenish'd  soon,  replenished  with  increase 
Of  pomp  and  multitude;  a  radiant  band 
Of  angels  new,  of  angels  from  the  tomb. 

Is  this  by  fancy  thrown  remote?  and  rise 
Bark  doubts  between  the  promise  andeveut 
I  send  thee  not  to  volumes  for  thy  cure  ; 
Read  nature ;  Nature  is  a  friend  to  truth  ; 
Nature  is  Christian  ;  preaches  to  mankind, 
And  bids  dead  matter  aid  us  in  our  creed. 
,Hast  thou  ne'er  seen  the  comets  flaming  flight 
Th'  illustrious  stranger  passing,  terror  sheds 
On  gazing  nations  from  his  fiery  train, 
Of  length  enormous,  takes  his  ample  round 
Thro'  depths  of  ether ;  coasts  nnnumber'd  worKls, 
Of  more  than  solar  glory  ;  doubles  wide 
Heav'ns  mighty  cape  ;  and  then  re-visits  earth, 
From  the  long  travel  of  a  thousand  years. 
Thus,  at  the  deslin'd  period,  shall  return 


oS  THE  COMPLAINT. 

He,  once  on  earth,  who  bids  the  comet  blaze  ; 
And  with  hira,  all  our  triumph  o'er  the  tomb. 

Nature  is  dumb  on  this  important  point, 
Or  hope  precarious  in  low  whisper  breathes : 
"Faith  speaks  aloud,  di.'^tinct ;  ev'n  adders  hear, 
But  turn,  and  dart  into  the  dark  again. 
Faith  builds  a  bridge  across  the  gulph  of  death, 
To  break  the  shock  blind  Nature  cannot  shun, 
And  lands  Thought  smoothly  on  the  farther  shore. 
Death's  terror  is  the  mountain  Faith  removes, 
That  mountain-barrier  between  man  and  peace. 
'Tis  Faith  disarms  Destruction,  and  absolves. 
From  ev'ry  clamorous  charge  the  guiltless  tomb. 

Why  disbelieve  ?  Lorenzo  ! — ''  Reason  bids, 
''  All  sacx'ed  Reason.'' — Hold  her  sacred  still ; 
Nor  shalt  thou  want  a  rival  in  thy  llame  ; 
All-sacred  Reason!  gource  and  soul  of  all 
Demanding  praise  on  earth,  or  earth  above  ! 
My  heart  is  thine:  deep  in  its  inmost  folds 
Live  thou  with  life  ;  live  dearer  of  the  two. 
Wear  I  the  blessed  cross,  by  Fortune  stamp'd 
On  passive  Nature  before  Thought  was  born? 
3ty  birth's  blind  Mgot !  fir'd  with  local  zeal ! 
No  ;  Reason  rebaptiz'd  me  when  adult; 
Weigh'd  true  and  false  in  her  impartial  scale  : 
My  heart  became  the  convert  of  my  head. 
And  made  that  choice  which  once  was  but  my  fate. 
"  On  argument  alone  my  faith  is  built  :'* 
Reason  pursu'd  is  faith  ;  and  unpursu'd, 
Where  proof  invites,  'tis  reason  then  no  more  ; 
And  such  our  proof,  that,  or  our  faith  is  right, 
Or  reason  lies,  and  Heav'n  design'd  it  Avrong. 
Absolve  we  this  ?  what  then  is  blasphemy  ? 


THE    CKRISTIAN    TRJUMPn.  89 

Fend  as  we  are,  and  justly,  fond  of  faith, 
Reason,  we  grant,  demands  our  first  regard; 
Tlie  mother  honourM,  as  the  daughter  dear. 
Reason  the  root,  fair  Faith  is  but  the  flow'r ; 
The  fading  fiow'r  shall  die,  but  Reason  lives 
Immortal,  as  her  father  in  the  skies. 
"When  faith  is  virtue,  reason  makes  it  so. 
''tYrong  not  the  Christian  :  think  not  reason  yours  ; 
'Tis  reason  our  great  Master  holds  so  dear  ; 
'Tis  reason's  injur'd  rights  his  wrath  resents ; 
'Tis  reason's  voice  obey'd,  his  glories  crown  ; 
To  gl%'e  lost  reason  life,  he  pour'd  his  own. 
Beiipve,  and  shew  the  reason  of  a  man  ; 
Believe,  and  taste  the  pleasure  of  a  God; 
Believe,  and  look  with  triumph  on  the  tomb. 
Thro'  reason's  wounds  alone  thy  faith  can  die  ; 
"Which  dying,  ten-fold  terror  gives  to  death, 
And  dips  in  venom  his  twice-mortal  stkig. 

Learn  hence  what  honours,  what  loud  paeans  dae^ 
To  those  who  push  our  antidote  aside  ; 
Those  boasted  friends  to  reason  and  to  man, 
"Whqge  fatal  love  stabs  every  joy,  and  leaves 
Death's  terror  heighten'd  gnawing  at  his  heart, 
These  pompous  sons  of  reason  idoliz'd, 
AndviliR'd  at  once  ;  of  reason  dead, 
Then  deifi'd  as  monarchs  were  of  old; 
What  conduct  plants  proud  laurels  on  their  brow  ? 
"While  love  of  truth  thro'  all  their  c.imp  resounds, 
They  draw  pride's  curtain  o'er  the  noon-tide  ray, 
Spike  up  their  inch  of  reason  on  the  point 
Of  philosophic  wit,  call'd  Argument, 


E2 


00  THE    COMPLAINT. 

And  then  exulting  in  their  taper,  oy, 

*'  Behold  the  sun  ;"  and;  Indian-like,  adore. 

Talk  they  of  morals  ?  O  thou  bleeding  Love  1 
Thou  maker  of  new  morals  to  mankind  I 
The  grand  morality  is  love  of  Thee. 
As  wife  as  Socrates,  if  such  they  were, 
(Nor  will  the-y  bate  of  that  subiime  renown) 
As  wise  as  Socrates,  might  justly  stand 
The  definition  of  a  modern  fool. 

A  Christian  is  the  highest  style  of  man. 
And  is  there  who  the  blessed  cross  wipes  off, 
As  a  foul  blot,  from  his  dishonoured  brow? 
If  angels  tremble,  'tis  at  such  a  sight : 
The  wretch  they  quit,  desponding  of  their  charge, 
More  struck  with  grief  or  wonder  who  can  tell  ? 

Ye  sold  to  sense  I  ye  citizens  of  earth! 
(For  such  alone  the  Christian  banner  fly) 
Know  ye  how  wise  your  choice,  how  great  your  gain 
Behold  the  picture  of  earth's  happiest  man  : 
'•  He  calls  his  wish,  it  comes  ;  he  sends  it  back, 
*'  And  says  he  call'd  another  ;  that  arrives, 
••  Meets  the  same  welcome  ;  yet  he  still  calls  on  ; 
*'Till  one  calls  him  who  varies  not  his  call, 
*'  But  ho!ds  him  fast,  in  chains  of  darkness  bound, 
"  Till  nature  dies,  and  judgment  sets  him  free  .- 
'*  A  freedom  far  less  welcome  than  his  chain.'* 

But  grant  man  happy;  grant  him  happy  long; 
Add  to  life's  highest  prize  her  latest  hour; 
That  hour,  so  late,  is  nimble  in  approach, 
That,  like  a  post,  comes  on  in  fall  career. 
How  swift  the  shuttle  flies  that  weaves  thy  shroud  ! 
Where  is  the  fable  of  thy  former  years  ? 


THE  CHKTaTIAN  TRICirrn.  9i 

i  brown  down  the  gulf  of  time ;  as  far  from  thee 
As  they  had  ne'er  been  thrne  ;  the  day  in  hand, 
Like  a  bird  strugirling  to  get  loose,  is  going  ; 
Scarce  now  possess'd  :   so  suddenly  'tis  gone  ; 
And  each  swift  motnent  fled,  is  death  advancM 
I3y  strides  as  gwift.     Eternity  is  all; 
And  whose  eternity  ?  who  triumphs  there? 
Bathing  for  ever  in  the  font  of  bliss? 
For  ever  basking  in  the  Deity  •' 
Lorenzo,  who  ? — thy  conscience  shall  reply. 

O  give  it  leave  to  S{jeak  ;  'twill  speak  ere  long, 
Thy  leave  nnask'd  :  Lorenzo,  hear  it  now, 
While  useful  its  advice,  its  accent  mild. 
By  the  great  edict,  the  divine  decree, 
'iruth  is  deposited  with  man's  last  hour; 
An  honest  hour,  and  faithful  to  her  trust ; 
Truth,  eUk^st  daughter  of  the  Deity  ! 
Truth  of  his  council  when  he  made  the  worlds  I 
Nor  less  when  he  shall  judge  the  worlds  he  made  ; 
Tho'  silent  long,  and  sleeping  ne'er  so  sound, 
SmotherM  with  errorsi,  and  oppress'd  with  toys, 
That  heaven  commission'd  hour  no  sooner  calls, 
But  from  her  cavern  in  the  soul's  abyss, 
Like  him  they  fable  under  JEtna  v.helin'd, 
Tliegoddest  bursts  in  thunder  and  in  flame. 
Loudly  convinces,  and  severely  pains. 
Dark  dajinons  I  discharge,  and  hydra  stings  ; 
The  keen  vibration  of  bright  truth — is  jiell  ; 
Just  definition  I  tho'  by  schools  untaught. 
Ye  deaf  to  truth,  peruse  this  parson'd  page, 
And  trust  for  once  a  piophet  and  a  priest : 
*'  Men  may  live  fools,  but  fools  they  cannot  die." 


TRE 

COMPLAINT. 

vwvw 

NIGHT  V. 

vwvw 

THE  RELAPSE. 

fXSCBIBF.O    TO    THE    RIGHT    nOXOURABLE    THE 
EARL  OF  LICHFIELD. 


Lorenzo  »  to  recriminate  is  just. 
Fondness  for  fame  is  avarice  of  air. 
I  grant  the  man  is  vain  who  writes  for  praise. 
Praise  no  man  e'er  deservM,  who  soiight  no  more. 

As  just  thy  second  charge.     I  grant  the  muse 
Has  often  blush'd  at  her  degen'rate  sons, 
Retain'd  by  sense  to  plead  her  filthy  cause, 
To  raise  the  low,  to  magnify  the  mean, 
And  subtilize,  the  gross  into  refin'd  ; 
As  if  to  magic  numbers  pow'rful  charm 
'Tvvas  given  to  make  a  civet  of  tiieir  song 
Obscene  and  sweeten  ordure  to  perfume. 
Wit,  a  true  Pagan,  deifies  the  brute, 
And  lifts  our  swaine-enjoyments  from  the  mire. 

The  fact  notorious,  nor  obscure  the  cause. 
"We  wear  the  chains  of  pleasure  and  of  pride  : 
These  share  the  man,  and  these  distract  him  too; 
Draw  different  ways,  and  clash  in  their  commandf?. 
Pride,  like  an  eagle,  builds  cmong  the  stars; 


THE    RELAPSE.  93 

But  Pleasure,  lark-like,  nests  upon  the  ground. 
Joys  shar'tl  by  brute  creation,  Pride  resents ; 
Pleasure  embraces ;  man  Avould  both  enjoy, 
And  both  at  once  :  a  point  how  hard  to  gain  I 
But  what  can't  Wit,  when  stung  by  strong  desire? 

"Wit  dares  attempt  this  arduous  enterprise. 
Since  joys  of  sense  can't  ri*e  to  Reason's  taste, 
In  subtle  Sophistry's  laborious  forge, 
Wit  hammers  out  a  reason  new.  that  stoops 
To  sordid  scenes,  and  meets  thorn  with  applause. 
Wit  calls  the  Graces  the  chaste  zone  to  loose ; 
Nor  less  than  a  plump  god  to  fill  the  bowl : 
A  thousand  phantoms,  and  a  thousand  spells, 
A  thousand  opiates  «^catters  to  delude, 
To  fascinate,  inebriate,   lay  asleep, 
And  the  fool'd  mind  delightfully  confound. 
Thus  that   which   shuck'd  the  judgment  shocks  no 

more : 
That  which  gave  Pride  offence  no  more  offends. 
Pleasure  and  Pride,  by  nature  mortal  foes. 
At  war  eternal  which  in  man  shall  reign, 
By  Wit's  address  patch  up  a  fatal  peace, 
And  hand-in-hand  lead  on  the  rank  debauch, 
From  rank,  rcfin'd  to  delicate  and  gay. 
Art,  cursed  Art!  wipes  off  th'  indebted  blush 
Fnim  Nature's  cheek,  and  bronzes  ev'ry  shame. 
Man  smiles  in  Ruin,  glories  in  his  guilt, 
And  Infamy  stands  candidate  for  praise. 
All  writ  by  man  in  favour  of  the  soul. 
These  sensual  ethics  far,  in  bulk,  tranfcend, 
Theflow'rs  of  eloquence  profusely  pour'd 
O'er  spotted  Vice,  fill  half  the  lettered  worl^. 


94  ^         3I1E  COMTLAiyj. 

Can  pow'rs  of  genius  ex3rclse  their  page, 

And  consecrate  enormities  with  song  ? 

But  let  not  these  inexpiable  strains 

Condemn  the  muse  that  knows  her  dignity, 

Nor  meanly  stops  at  lime,  but  holds  the  world 

As  'tis,  in  Nature's  ample  field,  a  point, 

A  point  in  her  esteem ;  from  whence  to  start, 

And  run  the  round  of  universal  space. 

To  visit  being  universal  there, 

And  being's  source,  that  utmost  flight  of  mind  : 

Yet  spite  of  this  so  vast  circumference, 

Well  knows  but  what  is  moral,  nought  is  great. 

Sing  Syrens  only  ?  do  not  angels  sing? 

There  is  in  Poesy  a  decent  pride, 

AVhich  well  becomes  her  ^vhen  she  speaks  to  Piose, 

Her  younger  sister  haply  not  more  wise. 

Think'st  thou,  Lorenzo,  to  find  pastimes  here? 
No  guilty  passion  blown  into  a  /lame, 
No  foible  Hatter'd,  dignity  disgrao'd, 
No  fairy  field  of  fiction,  all  on  flower, 
No  rainbow  colours  here,  or  silken  tale  ; 
But  solemn  counsels,  images  of  awe, 
Truths  which  Eternity  lets  full  on  man 
With  double  weight,  thro'  these  revolving  spheres, 
This  death-deep  silence,  and  Incumbent  shade  ; 
Thoughts  such  as  shall  re-visit  your  last  hour, 
Visit  uncaird,  and  live  when  life  expires; 
And  thy  dark  pencil,  Midnight!  darker  still 
In  melancholy  dipp'd,  embrowns  the  whole. 

Yet  this,  even  this,  my  laughter-loving  friends, 
Lorenzo  !  and  thy  brothers  of  the  smile  \ 
If  what  imports  you  most  can  most  engage, 


THE    RTCLAPSE.  s  f)5 

Shall  ?tea!  your  ear  and  chain  you  to  my  song. 
Or  if  you  fail  me,  know  the  wise  shall  taste 
The  truths  I  sing;  the  truths  I  sing  shall  feel, 
And,  feeling,  give  a?sent ;  and  their  absent 
Is  ample  recompense  ;  is  more  than  praise. 
But  chiefly  thine,  O  Litchfield  !  nor  mistake  I 
Think  not  unintroduc'd  I  force  my  \\ay; 
Narcissa,  not  unknown,  not  unallyM 
By  virtue  or  by  blood,  illustrious  Youth  I 
To  thee  from  blooming  amaranthine  bowVs, 
Where  all  the  language  Harmony,  descends 
Uncall'd,  and  asks  admitiance  for  the  muse: 
A  muse  that  will  not  pain  thee  with  thy  praise  : 
Thy  praise  she  drops,  by  nobler  still  inspir'd. 

O  thou,  blest  Spirit  I  whether  the  supreme, 
Great  antemundane  Fatiier  I  in  whose  breast 
Embryo  creation,  unborn  being,  dwelt, 
And  all  its  various  revolutions  roll'd 
Present,  tho'  future,  prior  to  themselves ; 
Whose  breath  can  blow  it  into  nought  again. 
Or  from  his  throne  some  delegated  pow'r 
Who,  studious  of  our  peace,  dost  turn  the  thought 
From  vain  and  vile,  to  solid  and  sublime ! 
Unseen  thou  lead'st  me  to  delicious  draughts 
Of  inspiration,  from  a  purer  stream, 
And  fuller  of  the  God  than  that  which  burst 
From  fam'd  Castalia;  nor  is  yet  allay'd 
My  sacred  thirst,  tho'  long  my  soul  has  rang'd 
Thro'  pleasing  paths  of  moral  and  divine, 
By  these  sustain'd  and  lighted  by  the  stars. 

By  them  best  lighted  are  the  paths  of  thought ; 
>'ights  are  their  davs,  their  most  illurain'd  hours  ! 


96  THECOMPLAIAT- 

By  (lay  the  soul  overborne  by  life's  career, 

StunnM  by  the  din,  ami  giddy  with  the  glare. 

Keels  far  from  reason,  jostled  by  the  throng. 

By  day  the  soul  is  passive,  all  her  thoughts 

Impos'd,  precarious,  broken,  ere  mature. 

By  night,  from  objects  free,  from  passion  cool, 

Thoughts  uncontrol'd,  and  uniinpress'd  the  births 

Of  pure  Election,  arbitrary  range, 

Not  to  the  limits  of  one  world  confiii'd. 

But  from  etiiereal  travels  light  on  earth, 

As  voyagers  drop  anchor  for  repose. 

Let  Indians,  and  the  gay,  like  Indians,  found 
Of  feathered  fopperies,  the  sun  adore; 
Darkness  has  more  divinity  for  nie  ; 
It  strikes  thought  inward,  it  drives  back  the  soul 
To  settle,  on  herself,  our  point  supreme  I 
There  lies  our  theatre;  there  sits  our  judge. 
Darkness  the  curtain  drops  o'er  life's  dull  scene; 
'Tis  the  kind  hand  of  Providence  stretch'd  out 
'Twixt  man  and  vanity  ;  'tis  Reason's  reign, 
And  virtue's  too;  these  tutelary  shades 
Are  raan's  asylum  from  the  tainted  throng. 
Night  is  the  good  man's  friend,  and  guardian  too, 
It  no  less  rescues  virtue  than  inspires. 

Virtue,  for  ever  frail  as  fair,  below, 
Her  tender  nature  suffers  in  the  crow'd, 
Nor  toucheson  the  world  without  a  stain. 
The  world's  infectious  ;  few  bring  back  at  eve, 
Immaculate,  the  manners  of  the  morn. 
Something  we  thought  is  blotted  j  we  resolv'd, 
Is  shaken;  *ve  renouncM,  returns  again. 
Each  salutation  may  slide  in  a  sin 
Untlioughl  before,  or  fix  a  former  flaw. 


THE    RELAPSE.  9  I 

Nor  is  it  strange;  iiglit,  motion,  concourse,  noise, 
All  «catter  us  abroad.     Thought  outward-bound, 
Neglectful  of  our  home-affairs,  dies  off 
In  fume  and  dissipation,  quits  her  charge, 
And  leaves  the  breast  unguarded  to  the  foe. 

Preseni  example  gets  within  our  guard, 
And  acts  "  ith  double  force,  by  few  repeli'd. 
Ambition  fires  ambition  ;  love  of  gain 
Strikes,  like  a  pestilence  ;  from  breast  to  breast : 
Riot,  pride,  perfidy,  blue  vapours  breathe, 
And  itihumanity  is  caught  from  man, 
From  smiling  man  !  a  slight  a  single  glance. 
And  shot  at  random,  often  has  brought  home 
A  sudden  fever  to  the  throbbing  heart 
Of  envy,  rancour,  or  impure  desire. 
We  see,  we  hear,  with  peril ;  safety  dwells 
Remote  from  multitude.     The  world's  a  school 
Of  wrong,  and  what  proficients  swarm  around  ! 
We  must  or  imitate  or  disapprove  ; 
Must  list  as  their  accomplices  or  foes ; 
That  stains  our  innocence,  lliis  wounds  our  peace. 
From  Nature's  birth,  hence,  wisdom  has  been  srait 
With  sweet  recess,  aud  languish'd  for  the  shade. 

This  sacred  shade  and  solitude  what  is  it? 
'Tis  the  felt  presence  of  the  Deity. 
Few  are  the  faults  we  flatter  when  alone. 
Vice  sinks  in  her  allurements,  is  ungilt, 
And  looks,  like  other  objects,  black  by  night. 
By  night  an  atheist  half  believes  a  God. 

Night  is  fair  virtue's  immemorial  friend. 
The  conscious  moon,  thro'  ev'ry  distant  age, 
Has  held  a  lamp  to  \Yisdom,  and  let  fall, 


98  THE    COMFLAIKT. 

On  contemplation's  eye  her  purging  ray. 

The  fam'tl  Athenian,  he  who  woo'd  from  heaven 

Philosophy  the  fair,  to  dwell  with  men, 

And  from  their  manner.?,  not  inflame  their  pridC) 

While  o'er  his  head  as  fearful  to  molest 

His  lab'ring  mind,  the  stars  in  silence  slide, 

And  seem  all  gazing  on  their  future  guest, 

See  hiin  soliciting  his  ardent  suit 

In  private  audience  ;  all  the  live-long  night, 

Rigid  in  thought,  and  motionless  he  stands. 

Nor  quits  his  theme  or  posture  till  the  sun 

(Rude  drunkard  !  rising  rosy  from  the  main) 

Disturbs  his  nobler  intellectual  beam. 

And  gives  him  to  the  tumult  of  the  world. 

Hail,  precious  moments »  stol'n  from  the  black  waste 

Ofmurder'd  time!  auspicious  Midnight!  hail! 

The  world  excluded  ev'ry  passion  hush*tl, 

And  open'd  a  calm  intercourse  with  Heav'n, 

Here  the  soul  sits  in  council,  ponders  past, 

Predestines  future  actions ;  sees,  not  feels. 

Tumultuous  life,  and  reasons  with  the  storm  ; 

All  her  lyes  answers  and  thinks  down  her  charms. 

What  awful  joy  !  what  mental  liberty  I 
I  am  not  pent  in  darkness ;  rather  say 
(If  not  too  bold)  in  darkness  I'm  embower'd. 
Delightful  gloom  !  the  clust'ring  thoughts  around 
Spontaneous  rise,  and  blossom  in  the  shade. 
But  droop  by  day,  and  sicken  in  the  sun. 
Thought  borrows  light  elsewhere;  from  that  firgt  fire 
Fountain  of  animation  I  w-hence  descends 
Urania,  my  celestial  guest!  who  deigns 
Nightly  to  visit  me,  so  mean ;  and  no\r. 


THE  &BLAPSE.  90 

Conscious  how  neeJful  discipline  toman, 
From  pleasing  dalliance  with  the  cliarms  of  night 
My  wand'ring  thought  recalls,  to  what  excites 
Far  ether  beat  of  heart,  Narcissa's  tomb  ! 

Or  is  it  feeble  Nature  calls  me  back, 
And  breaks  my  spirit  into  grief  again  ? 
Ib  it  a  Stygian  vapour  in  my  blood  ? 
A  cold  slow  puddle  creeping  thro'  my  vins  ? 
Or  is  it  thus  with  all  men  ? — Thus  with  all. 
"What  are  we  ?  how  unequal !  now  we  soar, 
And  now  we  sink.    To  be  the  same  transcends 
Our  present  prowess.    Dearly  pays  the  soul 
For  lodging  ill ;  too  dearly  rents  her  clay. 
Reason,  a  baffled  counsellor!  but  adds 
The  blush  of  weakness  to  the  bane  of  woe. 
The  noblest  spirit  fighting  her  hard  fate 
In  this  damp,  dusky  region,  charg'd  with  storms, 
But  feebly  flutters,  yet  untaught  to  fly  j 
Or,  flying,  short  her  flight,  and  sure  Iier  fall : 
Our  utmost  strength,  when  down,  to  rise  again, 
Aad  not  to  yield,  tho'  beaten,  all  our  praise. 

*Tis  vain  to  seek  in  men  for  more  than  man. 
Tho'  proud  in  promise,  big  in  previous  thought, 
Experience  damps  our  triumjih.     I,  who  late 
Emerging  from  the  shadows  of  the  gravej 
"Where  grief  detain'd  me  prisoner,  mounting  high, 
Threw  wide  the  gates  of  everlasting  day. 
And  call'd  mankind  to  glory,  shook  off  pain, 
3Iortality  shook  off,  in  ether  pure, 
And  struck  the  stars,  now  feel  my  spirits  fail ; 
They  drop  me  from  the  zenith  ;  down  I  rush, 
I  ike  him  whom  fable  flcdg'd  with  waxen  wings, 


loo  THE  COMPLAINT. 

In  sorrow  tlrownM — -but  not  in  sorrow  lost. 

Hosv  wretched  is  the  man  who  never  mourn'd! 

I  dive  for  precious  pearl  in  sorrow's  stream  :  ' 

Not  so  the  thoughtless  man  that  only  grieves, 

Takes  all  the  torment,  and  rejects  the  gain, 

(Inestimable  gain)  and  gives  Heav'n  leave 

To  make  him  but  more  wretched,  not  more  wise. 

If  wisdom  is  our  lesson  (and  what  else 
Ennobles  man  ?  what  else  have  angels  learn'd  ?) 
Grief  I  more  proficients  in  tliy  school  are  made, 
Than  genius  or  proud  learning  e'er  could  boast. 
Voracious  learning  often  over-fed, 
Digests  not  into  sense  her  motley  meal. 
This  bookcase,  with  dark  booty  almost  burst, 
This  forager  on  others  wisdom,  leaves 
Her  native  farm,  her  reason,  quite  uutili'd. 
With  mixt  manure  she  surfeits  the  rank  soil, 
Dung'd,  but  not  dress'd,  and  rich  to  beggary : 
A  pomp  untameable  of  weeds  prevails  : 
Her  servant's  wealth  incamberM  Wisdom  mourns. 

And  what  says  Genius  ?  Let  the  dull  be  wise. 
Genius ;  too  hard  for  right,  can  prove  it  wrong, 
And  loves  to  boast,  where  blush  men  less  inspir'd. 
It  pleads  exemption  from  the  laws  of  sense, 
Considers  reason  as  a  leveller, 
And  scorns  to  share  a  blessing  with  the  crowd. 
That  wise  it  could  be,  thinks  an  ample  claim 
To  glory,  and  to  pleasure  gives  the  rest. 
Crassus  but  sleeps,  Ardelio  is  undone. 
Wisdom  less  shudders  at  a  fool  than  wit. 

But  wisdom  smiles,  when  humbled  mortals  weep. 
When  sorrow  wounds  the  breast,  as  ploughs  the  glebe, 


THE  RELArSE.  JOl 

And  hearts  obdurate  feel  her  soft'ning  show'r  : 

Her  seed  celestial,  then,  glad  wisdom  sows; 

Her  golden  hardest  triumphs  in  the  soil. 

If  so,  Narci?sa,  welcome  my  relapse  ; 

1*11  raise  a  tax  on  my  calamity, 

And  reap  rich  compensation  from  my  pain. 

I'll  range  the  plenteous  intellectual  field, 

And  gather  ev'ry  thought  of  sovereign  powV 

To  chase  the  moral  maladies  of  man  ; 

Thoughts  which  may  bear  transplanting  to  the  skies, 

Tho'  natives  of  this  coarse  penurious  soil; 

Nor  wholly  whither  there' were  seraphs  sing, 

Refin'd,  exalted,  not  annuil'd,  in  heav'n  : 

Reason,  the  sun,  that  gives  them  birth,  the  same 

In  either  clime,  tho'  more  illustrious  there. 

These  choicely  culi'd,  and  elegantly  rang'd 

Shall  form  a  garland  for  Narclssa's  tomb, 

And  peradventure,  of  no  fading  flow'rs. 

Say,  on  what  themes  shall  puzzled  choice  descend  ? 
"  Th'  importance  of  contemplating  the  tomb  j 
*•  Why  men  decline  it;  suicide's  foul  birth; 
*'  The  various  kinds  of  grief;   the  faults  of  age  ; 
••And  death's  dread  character — invite  my  song.'^ 

And,  first,  th' importance  of  our  end  surveyed. 
Friends  counsel  quick  dismission  of  our  grief. 
Mistaken  kindness  I  our  hearts  heal  too  soon. 
Are  they  more  kind  than  He  who  struck  the  blow"  ? 
Who  bid  it  do  his  errand  in  our  hearts, 
And  banish  peace,  till  nobler  guests  arrive, 
And  bring  it  back  a  true  and  endless  peace? 
Calamities  are  friends  ;  as  glaring  day 
Of  these  unnumber'd  lustres  robs  our  sight, 


102  THE  COMPLAINT. 

Prosperity  puts  out  unnumber'd  thoughts  ^ 

Of  import  high,  and  light  divine  to  man,  ^ 

The  man  how  bless'd,  who,  sick  of  gaudy  scenes, 
(Scenes  apt  to  trust  between  us  and  ourselves !) 
Is  led  by  choice  to  take  his  fav'rite  walk 
Beneath  Death's  gloomy,  silent,  cypress  shades, 
Unpierc'd  by  Vanity's  fantastic  ray ; 
To  read  his  monuments,  to  weigh  his  dust, 
"Visit  his  vaults,  and  dwell  among  thetombs^l 
Lorenzo,  read  with  me  Narcissa's  stone; 
(Narcissa  was  thy  fav'rite)  let  us  read 
Her  moral  stone ;   few  doctors  preach  so  well  ', 
Few  orators  so  tenderly  can  touch 
The  feeling  heart.    "What  pathos  in  the  date  ! 
Apt  w^ords  can  strike  ;  and  yet  in  them  we  see 
Faint  images  of  what  we  here  enjoy. 
Tv'hat  cause  have  we  to  build  on  length  of  life  ? 
Temptations  seize  when  fear  is  laid  asleep, 
And  ill  foreboded  is  our  strongest  guard. 

See  from  her  tomb,  as  from  an  humble  shrine, 
Truth,  radiant  goddess!  sallies  on  my  soul, 
And  puts  Delusion's  dusky  train  to  Sight: 
Dispels  the  mist  cur  sultry  passions  raise 
From  object!  low%  terrestial,  and  obscene, 
And  shows  the  real  estimate  of  things, 
Which  no  man,  unafflicted,  ever  saw  ; 
Pulls  off  the  veil  from  Virtue's  rising  charms  ; 
Detects  temptation  in  a  thousand  lies. 
Truth  bids  me  look  on  men  as  autumn  leaves, 
And  all  they  bleeJ  for  as  the  summer',^  dust 
Driv'n  by  the  whirlwind  :  lighted  by  her  beams, 
I  widen  my  horizon,  gain  new  pow'rs. 


THE  RELAPSE.  103 

See  things  Invisible,  feel  things  remote, 
Am  present  with  futurities;  think  nought 
To  man  so  foreign  as  the  joys  possessM  ; 
!Noiight  so  much  his  as  those  beyond  the  grave. 

Xo  folly  keeps  its  colour  in  her  sight : 
Pale  worldly  wibdom  lose?  all  her  charm? ; 
In  pompous  promise  from  her  schemes  profound, 
If  future  fate  she  plans,  'tis  all  in  leaves. 
Like  Sibyl!  unsubstantial  fleeting  bliss  ! 
At  the  first  blast  it  vanishes  in  air. 
Not  so  celestial :  Would'st  thou  know,  Lorenzo, 
How  differ  worldly  wisdom  and  divine  ? 
Just  as  the  waning  and  the  waxing  moon  : 
More  empty  worldly  wisdom  ev'ry  day  ; 
And  ev'ry  day  more  fair  her  rival  shines. 
\A  hen  later,  there's  less  time  to  play  the  fool. 
Soon  our  whole  term  for  wisdom  is  expir'd, 
(Thou  know'i^t  she  calls  no  council  in  the  grave) 
And  everlasting  fool  is  writ  in  fire. 
Or  real  wisdom  wafts  us  to  the  skies. 

As  worldly  schemes  reseuible  Sibyl's  leaves, 
The  good  man's  days  to  Sibyl's  books  compare, 
(In  ancient  story  read,  thou  know'st  the  tale) 
In  price  still  rising  as  in  number  less, 
Inestimable  quite  his  final  hour. 
For  that  who  thrones  can  offer,  offer  thrones ; 
Insolvent  worlds  the  purchase  cannot  pay. 
*'  Oh  let  me  die  his  death  !"  all  naturL-  cries. 
'*  Then  live  his  life." — All  nature  falters  there  ; 
Our  great  physician  daily  to  consult, 
To  commune^Aith  the  grave,  our  only  cure. 

"What  grave  prescribes  the  begt  ? — A  friend's ' 
and  yet 


]04  THE  COMPLAIKT. 

From  a  friend's  grave  how  soon  we  disengage  1 

Ev'n  to  the  dearest,  as  his  marble,  cold. 

Why  are  friends  ravish'd  from  us  ?  'Tis  to  bind, 

By  soft  Affection's  ties  on  human  hearts, 

The  thought  of  death,  which  reason,  too  supine, 

Or  misemployed  so  rarely  fastens  there. 

Nor  reason,  nor  affection,  no,  nor  both 

Combin'd,  can  break  the  witchcrafts  of  the  world. 

Behold  th'  inexorable  hour  at  hand  ! 

Behold  th*  inexorable  hoar  forgot ! 

And  to  forget  it  the  chief  aim  of  life, 

Tho'  well  to  ponder  it,  is  life's  chief  end. 

Is  death,  that  ever  threat'ning  ne'er  remote, 
That  all-important,  and  that  only  sure, 
(Come  when  he  will)  an  unexpected  guest? 
Nay,  tho'  invited  by  the  loudest  calls 
Of  blind  imprudence,  unexpected  still, 
Tho'  num'rous  messengers  are  sent  before, 
To  warn  his  great  arrival.     What  the  cause, 
The  won'rous  cause,  of  this  mysterious  ill? 
All  heav'n  looks  down,  astonish'd  at  the  sight. 

Is  it  that  Life  has  sown  her  joys  so  thick 
We  can't  trust  in  a  single  care  between  ? 
Is  it  that  Life  has  such  a  swarm  of  cares. 
The  thought  of  death  can't  enter  for  the  throng? 
Is  it  that  time  steals  on  with  downy  feet, 
Nor  wakes  indulgence  from  her  godden  dream  ? 
To-day  is  so  like  yesterday  it  cheats  ; 
We  take  the  lying  sister  for  the  same. 
Life  glides  away,  Lorenzo,  like  a  brook, 
For  ever  changing,  unperceir'd  the  change. 
In  th»  same  brook  none  ever  bath'd  him  twice  > 
To  the  sarae  life  none  over  twice  awoke. 


XHE  RELAPiE.  10. 

V»'e  call  the  brook  the  same;  the  same  we  think 
Our  life,  tho'  still  more  rapid  in  its  flow, 
Nor  raark  the  much  irrevocably  lapsM, 
Aful  mingleii  with  the  sea.     Or  shall  we  Fay 
(Retaining  still  the  brook  to  bear  us  on) 
Tliat  life  is  like  a  vessel  on  the  stream  ? 
In  life  embarkM,  we  smoothly  down  the  tide 
Of  time  descend,  but  not  v.  n  time  intent; 
AmusM,  unconscious  of  the  gliding  wave, 
Till  on  a  sudden  we  perceive  a  shock  ; 
We  start,  awake,  look  out ;  v;hat  see  we  there  ; 
Our  brittle  bark  is  burst  on  Charon's  shore. 

Is  this  the  cause  death  flies  all  human  thought 
Or  is  it  judgment,  by  the  will  struck  blind. 
That  domineering  mistress  of  the  soul ! 
Take  him  so  strong  by  Dalildh  the  fair  ? 
Or  is  it  fear  turns  startled  reason  back 
From  looking  down  a  precipice  so  steep  ? 
'Tis  dreadful,  and  the  dread  is  wisely  plac'd 
By   Nature,  conscious  of  the  make  of  man. 
A  dreadful  friend  it  is,  a  terrror  kind, 
A  flaming  sword  to  guard  the  tree  of  life. 
By  that  unaw'd,  in  life's  most  smiling  hour 
The  good  man  would  repine  ;  would  sufier  joy.., 
And  burn  impatient  for  hi?  promisM  skies. 
The  bad,  on  each  punctilious  pique  of  pride. 
Or  gloom  of  humour,  would  give  rage  the  rein, 
Bound  o'er  the  barrier,  rush  into  the  dark, 
And  mar  the  scenes  of  Providence  below. 

What  groan  was  that,  Lorenzo?  Furies,  ri^c, 
And  drown,  in  your  less  execrable  yell, 
Britannia's  shame,  There  took  her  gloomy  flight, 
F 


106  THE    COMPLAINT. 

On  wing  iaipetuous,  a  black  suJlen  snul. 
Blasted  from  hell  with  horrid  lust  of  death. 
Thy  friend,  the  brave,  the  gallant  Altamont, 
So  call'd,  so  thought, — and  then  he  fled  the  field, 
Less  !ja?e  the  fear  ofueiith  than  fear  of  life. 
O  Britain  I  infamous  for  suicide  ! 
An  island,  in  thy  manners,  fardisjoin'd 
From  the  whole  world  of  nationals  beside  I 
In  ambient  waves  plunge  thy  polluted  head, 
Wash  the  dire  stain,  nor  shock  the  continent. 

But  thou  be  shock'd  while  I  detect  the  cause 
Of  self-assault,  cxposse  the  monster's  birth, 
And  bid  abhorrence  hiss  it  round  the  world. 
Blame  not  thy  clime,  nor  chide  the  distant  sun  ; 
The  sua  is  innocent,  thy  clime  absolv'd  ; 
Immoral  climes  kind  Nature  never  made. 
The  cause  I  sing  in  Eden  might  prevail, 
And  proves  it  is  thy  folly,  not  thy  fate. 
The  soul  of  man  (let  man  in  homage  bow 
Who  names  his  soul)  a  native  of  the  skies  I 
High-born  and  free,  her  freedom  should  maintaia, 
Unsold,  unmortgag'd  for  earth's  little  bribes. 
Th'  illustrious  stranger  in  this  foreign  land, 
Like  strangers  jealous  of  her  dignity, 
Studious  of  home,  and  ardent  to  return, 
Of  earth  suspicious,  earths  inchanted  cup 
With  cool  reserve  light  touching,  should  indulge 
On  immortality  her  godlike  taste  ; 
There  take  large  draughts ;  make  her  chief  banqut 
there : 

But  some  reject  this  sustenance  divine  j 
To  beggarly  vile  appetites  descend, 


THE  RELiPsi:.  107 

Ask  alms  of  earth  far  guest?  that  came  from  heav'xi ; 
Sink  into  slaves,  and  sel!  for  present  hire 
Their  rich  reversion  and  (what  shares  its  fate) 
Their  native  freedom  to  the  prince  who  s»vays 
This  neither  world  ;  and  when  his  payments  fail, 
When  his  foul  basket  gorges  them  no  more, 
Or  their  pal  I'd  palates  loathe  the  basket  full, 
Are  instantly,  with  wild  demoniac  rage 
For  breaking  all  the  chains  of  Providence, 
And  bursting  their  confinement,  thro'  fast  ban'd 
By  laws  divine  and  human  ;  guarded  strong 
AVith  horrors  doubled  to  defend  the  pass, 
The  blackest,  Nature,  or  dire  guilt  can  raisft, 
And  moatcJ  round  with  fathomless  destruction, 
Sure  to  receive,  and  whelm  them  in  their  fall. 

Such,  Bi  itons,  is  the  cause,  to  you  unknown, 
Or,  worse,  o'erlook'd,  o'erlook'd  hy  magistrate*; 
Thus  criminals  themselves.    I  grant  the  deed 
Is  madness,  but  the  madness  of  the  heart. 
And  what  is  that?  Our  utmost  bound  of  gu"'. 
A  sensual  unreflecting  lii'e  is  big 
With  monstrous  births  and  suicide,  to  crown 
The  black  infernal  brood.     The  bold  to  break 
lleav'n'g  law  supreme,  and  desperately  rush 
Thro'  sacred  Nature's  murder  on  their  own, 
Because  they  never  think  of  death,  they  die, 
'Tis  equally  man's  duty,  glory,  gain, 
At  once  to  shun  and  meditate  his  end. 
When  by  the  bed  of  ianguisbraent  we  sit, 
(The  seat  of  wisdum  \  if  our  choice,  not  fate) 
Or  o'er  our  dying  friendt;  in  anguish  hang. 
Wipe  the  cold  dew  or  stay  the  sinking  head, 


108  THB  CbMPLAlNt. 

Number  their  moments,  and  in  ev'ry  clock 

Start  at  the  voice  of  an  eternity ; 

See  the  dim  lamp  of  life  just  feebly  lift 

An  agonizing  beam  at  us  to  gaze, 

Then  sink  again,  and  quiver  into  death, 

That  most  pathetic  herald  of  our  own  ; 

How  read  we  such  sad  scenes  ?  As  sent  to  man 

In  perfect  vengeance?  No,  in  pity  sent, 

To  melt  him  down,  like  wax,  and  then  impress, 

Indelible,  death's  image  on  his  heart, 

Bleeding  for  others,  trembling  for  himself. 

We  bleed,  we  tremble,  we  forget,  we  smile. 

The  mind  turns  fool  before  the  cheek  is  dry. 

Our  quick  returning  folly  cancels  all, 

As  the  tide  rushing  rases  what  is  writ 

In  yielding  sands,  and  smooths  the  letter'd  shore. 

Lorenzo,  hast  thou  ever  weigh'd  a  sigh  ? 
Or  study'd  the  philosophy  of  tears  ? 
(A  science  yet  unlectur'd  in  our  schools) 
Hast  thou  descended  deep  into  the  breast 
And  seen  their  source?  if  not,  descend  with  me, 
And  trace  these  briny  rivMets  to  their  springs. 

Our  fun'ral  tears,  from  diff'rent  causes  rise  : 
As  if  from  separate  cisterns  in  the  soul, 
Ofvarious  kinds  they  flow.     From  tender  hearts, 
By  soft  contagion  call'd,  some  burst  at  once, 
And  stream  obsequies  to  the  leading  eye  : 
Some  ask  more  time,  by  curious  art  distill'd, 
Some  hearts,  in  secret  hard,  unapt  to  melt. 
Struck  by  the  magic  of  the  public  eye, 
Like  Moses'  smitten  rock,  gush  out  amain ; 
Some  weep  to  share  the  fame  of  the  deceas'd 


IHE    RELAPSE-  ►  109 

So  high  in  merit,  and  to  them  so  dear  : 
They  dwell  on  praises  which  they  think  they  share, 
And  thus  without  a  blush,  commend  themselves, 
fiome  mourn  in  proof  that  something  they  couhl  love. 
They  weep  not  to  relieve  their  grief,  but  shew. 
Some  weep  in  perfect  justice  to  the  dead. 
As  conscious  all  their  love  is  in  arrear. 
Some  mischievously  weep,  not  unappriz'd, 
Tears  sometimes  aid  the  conquest  of  an  eye. 
"With  what  address  the  soft  Ephesians  draw 
Their  sable  net-work  o'er  entangled  hearts  '. 
As  seen  thro'  crystal,  how  their  roses  glow, 
While  liquid  pearl  runs  trickling  down  their  cheek  ! 
Of  her*s  not  prouder,  Egypt's  wanton  queen, 
Carousing  gems,  herself  dissolved  in  love. 
Some  weep  at  death,  abstracted  from  the  dead. 
And  celebrate,  like  Charles,  their  own  decease. 
Ey  kind  construction  some  are  deem'd  to  weep, 
Because  a  decent  veil  conceals  their  joy. 

Some  weep  in  earnest,  and  yet  weep  in  vain  I 
As  deep  in  indiscretion  as  in  woe. 
Pas«ion,  blind  passion  !  impotently  pours 
Tears  that  deserve  more  tears,  while  Reason  sleep?, 
Or  gazes,  like  an  idiot,  unconcern'd, 
Nor  comprehends  the  meaning  of  the  storm  : 
Knows  not  it  speaks  to  her,  and  her  alone. 
Irrationals  all  sorrow  are  beneath, 
That  noble  gift !  that  privilege  of  man  ! 
From  sorrow's  pang  the  birth  of  endless  joy  ; 
Eut  these  are  barren  of  that  birth  divine  : 
They  weep  impetuous  as  the  summer  storm, 
And  full  Rs  short  I  the  cruel  grlcfsoon  tamM, 


110  THE    COMPLAINT. 

They  make  a  pastime  of  the  stingless  tale ; 
Far  as  the  deep-resounding  knell,  they  spread 
The  dreadful  new?,  and  hardly  feel  it  more  : 
Xo  grain  of  wisdom  pays  them  for  their  woe. 

Half  round  the  globe^  the  tears  purap'd  up  by  deaih 
Are  spent  in  wat'ring  vanities  of  life  ; 
In  making  folly  flourish  still  more  fair. 
AYhen  the  sick  soul,  her  wonted  stay  withdrawn, 
Reclines  on  earth,  and  sorrows  in  the  dust, 
Instead  of  learning  there  her  true  support, 
Tho'  there  thrown  down  her  true  support  to  learn, 
"Without  Heav'n's  aid,  impatient  to  be  blest. 
She  crawls  to  the  next  shrub  or  bramble  vile, 
Tho'  from  the  stately  cedar's  arms  she  fell ; 
With  stale  foresworn  embraces  clings  anew, 
The  stranger  weds,  and  blossoms,  as  before, 
In  all  the  fruitless  fopperies  of  life; 
Presenf  s  her  weed,  well  fancy'd,  at  the  ball, 
-And  raffles  for  the  death's  head  on  the  ring. 

So  wept  Aurelia,  till  the  destin'd  youth 
Stept  in  with  his  receipt  for  making  smiles, 
And  blanching  sables  into  bridal  bloom. 
So  wept  Lorenzo  fair  Clarissa's  fate. 
Who  gave  that  angel  boy  on  whom  he  doats  ; 
And  dy'd  to  give  hira,  orphan'd  in  his  birth  ! 
Not  such,  Narcissa,  my  distress  for  thee ; 
I'll  make  an  altar  of  thy  sacred  tomb. 
To  sacrifice  to  wisdom. — What  wast  thou  ? 
■^  Young,  gay,  and  fortunate  !  Each  yields  a  them?, 
I'll  dwell  on  each,  to  shun  thought  more  severe  j 
(Heav'n  knows  I  labour  with  severer  still!) 
I'll  dwell  oa  each,  and.  auitc  esJiaust  thy  death. 


THE  RELAPSE.  1  1  i 

A  scul  without  rfllection,  like  a  pile 
Without  inhabitant,  to  ruin  runs. 

And,  fir^t,  thy  youth  :  what  says  it  to  grey  hairs  ? 
XarciFsa,  I'm  become  thy  pupil  now, — 
Karly,  bright,  transient,  d)aste,  as  morning  dew  , 
She  sparkled,  was  exhai'd,  and  went  to  heav'n. 
Time  on  this  head  has  snow'd,  yet  still  'tis  borne 
Aloft,  nor  thinks  but  on  another's  grave. 
Cover'd  with  shame  I  speak  it,  age  severe 
Old  worn-out  vice  sets  down  for  virtue  lair; 
With  graceless  gravity  chastising  youth, 
That  youth  chastis'd  surpassing  in  a  fault, 
Father  of  all,  forgetfulness  of  death  ; 
As  if,  like  objects  pressing  on  the  sight, 
Death  had  advanced  too  near  us  to  be  seen  ; 
Or  that  life's  loan  time  ripeiiM  into  right, 
And  men  might  plead  prescription  from  the  gra'.p  . 
Deathless,  from  repetition  of  reprieve. 
Deathless  ?  far  from  it  I  such  are  dead  already  ; 
Their  hearts  are  bury'd,  and  the  world  their  gi  t.  •  . 

Tell  me,  some  God  I  ray  guardian  angel,  tell 
What  thus  infatuates?  what  enchantment  plarjl- 
The  phantom  of  an  age  'twixt  us  and  death, 
Already  at  the  door  ?  He  knocks  i  we  hear  hini 
And  yet  we  will  not  hear.     What  mail  defends 
Our  antouch'd  hearts,  what  miracle  turns  off 
The  pointed  thought,  \\  hich  from  a  thousand  qui\T:.* 
Is  daily  darted,  and  is  daily  shunn'd  ? 
We  stand,  as  in  a  battle,  throngs  on  throngs, 
Around  us  falling,  wounded  oft  ourselves ; 
The'  bleeding  with  our  wounds,  immortal  stiJi  ; 
We  see  Time's  furrows  on  another's  brow, 
And  Death  intrench'd,  preparini^  hia  a^sa'llf 


112  THK  tOMPLA.IK'f. 

How  (ew  themselves  in  that  just  mirror  set  1 
Or,  seeing,  drasv  their  inference  as  strong  I 
There  Death  is  certain  ;  douhtful  here  :  he  must, 
And  soon  :  we  may,  within  an  age,  expire. 
Tho'  grey  our  heads,  our  thoughts  and  aims  are 

green ! 
Like  damag'd  clocks,  whose  hand  and  bell  dissent ; 
I'ully  sings  six,  while  Nature  points  at  tweh^e. 

Absurd  longevity  !  More,  more,  it  cries  : 
31ore  life,  more  wealth,  more  trash  of  ev'ry  kind. 
And  wherefore  mad  for  more,  when  relish  fails? 
Object  and  appetite  must  club  for  joy  : 
Shall  folly  labour  hard  to  mend  thfe  bow, 
.Baubles,  I  mean,  that  strike  us  from  without, 
While  Nature  is  relaxing  ev'ry  string  ? 
Ask  thought  for  joy  ;  grow  rich,  and  hoard  within. 
Think  you  the  soul,  when  this  life's  rattles  cease, 
Has  nothing  of  more  manly  to  succeed  ? 
Contract  the  taste  iuimortal ;  learn  e'en  now 
To  relish  what  alone  subsists  hereafter. 
Divine,  or  none,  henceforth,  your  joys  for  ever. 
Of  age  the  glory  is,  to  wish  to  die  : 
That  wish  is  praise  and  promise ;  it  applauds 
Past  life,  and  promises  our  future  bliss. 
TVhat  weakness  see  not  children  in  their  sires! 
Orand-clinmcterical  absurdities ! 
Grey-hair'd  authority,  to  faults  of  youth 
How  shocking!  it  makes  folly  thrice  a  fool ; 
And  our  first  childhood  might  our  last  despise, 
Peace  and  esteem  is  all  that  age  can  hope: 
Nothing  but  Wisdom  gives  the  first:  the  last 
Nothing  but  the  repute  of  being  wise. 
Folly  bars  both ;  our  flge  ii  quite  undone. 


What  folly  can  be  ranker?  I /ike  our  shadow;;, 
(}  ir  wishes  lengthen  ay  our  sun  tl-icline3. 
No  wish  should  loiter,  thr^n,  this  side  the  grave- 
Our  hearts  should  leave  the  world  hefore  the  kaell 
Calls  for  our  carcases  to  mend  the  soil, 
Enough  to  live  in  tempests,  die  in  port; 
Age  should  fly  concourse,  cover  in  retreat 
Defects  of  jutlgment,  and  the  wilPs  subdue  ; 
"Walk  thoughtful  on  the  silent  solemn  shore 
Of  that  vast  ocean,  it  muMt  sail  so  soon. 
And  put  good  works  on  board,  and  wait  the  win.d 
That  shortly  blows  us  into  worlds  unknown  ; 
If  unconslder'd,  too,  a  dreadful  scene  ; 

All  should  be  prophets  to  themselves  foresee 
Their  future  fate:  their  future  fate  foretaste: 
This  art  would  waste  the  bitt-^rness  of  death. 
The  thought  ef  death  alone  the  fear  destroys: 
A  disaffection  to  that  precious  thought 
T*-  more  than  midjiight  darkness  on  the  soul, 
"VViiicli  sleeps  beneath  it  on  a  precipice, 
Pfifi'd  oirby  the  Arst  bla.^t,  und  lost  for  ever. 

l>ost  a.-k,  L:>re;i20,  why  so  warmly  prest 
By  repetition  Laminer'don  thine  ear, 
The  thought  of  death  ?  That  thought  is  the  machine, 
Tue  grand  machine,  that  heaves  us  from  the  dust. 
And  rears  us  into  men  !  That  thought  ply'd  hom», 
AYil!  soon  reduce  the  gliastiy  precipice 
<.>'ertijangi[»ghrll,  will  soften  the  descent. 
And  gently  slope  our  passage  to  the  grave  ? 
How  warmly  to  be  wish'd  ?  what  heart  of  flesh 
Wo'iJd  tiiHe  with  liexendous  ?  tlaro  extremes  ? 


114  "THF    eOMPLAIAT. 

Yawn  o'er  the  fate  of  infinite  ?  what  hand, 
-Beyond  the  blackest  brand  of  censure  bold, 
'To  speak  a  language  too  well  known  to  thee,) 
Would  at  a  moment  give  its  all  to  chance, 
And  stamp  the  die  for  an  eternity  ? 

Aid  me,  Narcissa  |  aid  me  to  keep  pace 
With  destiny,  and  ere  her  scissors  cut 
My  thread  of  life,  to  break  this  tougher  thread 
Of  moral  death,  that  ties  me  to  the  world. 
Sting  thou  ray  slunib'ring  reason  to  send  forth 
A  thought  of  observation  on  the  foe  ; 
To  sally,  and  survey  the  rapid  march 
Of  his  ten  thousand  messengers  to  man  : 
"Who,  Jehu-like,  behind  him  turns  them  at], 
All  accident  apart,  by  Nature  sign'd 
My  wrrrant  is  gone  out,  tho»  dorraent  yet ; 
Perhaps  behind  one  moment  lurks  my  fate. 

Must  I  then  forward  only  look  for  death  ? 
Backward  I  turn  mine  eye,  and  find  him  there^ 
Man  is  a  self-survivor  ev'ry  year. 
Man,  like  a  stream,  is  in  perpetual  flow. 
Death's  a  destroyer  of  quotidian  prey : 
My  youth,  my  noon-tide,  his  ;  my  yesterday  ; 
The  bold  invader  shares  the  present  hour. 
jEach  moment  on  the  former  shuts  the  grave. 
While  man  is  growing,  life  is  in  decrease, 
And  cradles  rock  us  nearer  to  the  tomb. 
Our  birth  is  nothing  but  our  death  begun, 
As  tapers  waste  that  instant  they  take  fire. 

Shall  we  then  fear,  lest  that  should  come  to  pas; 
Which  comes  to  pass  each  moment  of  our  lives  ? 
Tf  fear  we  must,  let  that  death  turn  ns  pale 


THE    K£LAPSE.  1  \% 

Which  murders  strenth  and  ardor;  what  remains 
Should  rather  call  on  death,  than  dread  his  call. 
Ye  partners  of  my  fault,  and  my  decline! 
Thoughtless  of  death  but  when  your  neighbour^* 

kneti 
(Rude  visitant)  knocks  hard  at  your  dull  sense, 
And  with  its  thunder  scarce  obtains  your  ear  1 
He  death  your  theme  iu  ev'ry  pi -ice  and  hour  : 
Nor  longer  want,  ye  monumental  Sires, 
A  brother  tomb  to  tell  you,  you  shall  die. 
That  death  you  dread,  (so  great  is  Nature's  skill!) 
Know  you  shall  court  before  you  shall  enjoy 

But  you  are  learn'd  ;  in  volumes  deep  yoii  sitj 
In  wisdom  shallow:  Pompous  ignorance! 
AVouId  you  be  still  more  learned  than  the  learn'd? 
Learn  well  to  know  how  much  need  not  be  known. 
And  what  that  knowledge  wiiich  impairs  your  sense. 
Our  needful  knowledge,  like  our  needful  food, 
Unhedg'd,  lies  open  in  life's  common  field, 
And  bids  all  \vi;lcome  to  the  vital  feast. 
You  scorn  what  lies  before  you  in  the  page 
Of  nature  and  experience,  moral  truth! 
Of  indispensable,  eternal  fruit! 
Fruit  on  which  mortals  feeding,  turn  to  gods; 
And  dive  in  science  for  distinguished  names, 
Dishonest  fomentation  of  your  pride, 
Sinking  in  virtue  as  you  rise  in  fame.  t 

Your  learning,  like  the  lunar  beam,  afford- 
Light,  but  not  heat;  it  leaves  you  urdevoi.t, 
Frozen  at  heart,  while  speculation  shines. 
Awake,  ye  curious  indagators  ;  fond 
Of  knowing  all,  but  what  avails  you  know. 
If  yon  wnnld  lotirn  Death's  chnract«*r,  fttteuiti 


116 


THi£  COMPLAIN- r. 


A\]  casts  of  condact,  all  degrees  of  health, 
^11  dyes  ioitiine,  and  all  dates  of  age, 
Together  shook  in  his  impartial  urn, 
Con^e  forth  at  random;  or,  if  choice  is  made, 
'J  he  choice  is  quite  sarcastic,  and  insults 
AW  bold  coiijecture  and  fond  hopes  of  man. 
"What  countless  multitudes  not  only  leave, 
Ent  deeply  disappoint  us,  by  their  deaths  I 
Tho*  i^reat  our  sorrow,  greater  our  surprise. 

Like  other  tyrants,  Death  delights  to  smite, 
AVliat,  smitten,  most  proclaims  the  pride  of  povv'r, 
And  arbitrary  nod.     His  joy  supreme. 
To  bid  the  wretch  survive  the  fortunate  ; 
The  feeble  wrap  th'  athletic  in  his  shroud  j 
And  weeping  fathers  build  their  children's  tomb : 
JMe  thine,  Narcissa! — Whattiio'  short  thy  jjate? 
Virtue,  not  rolling  suns,  the  mind  matures. 
That  life  is  long  which  answers  life's  great  end. 
The  time  that  bears  no  fruit  deserves  no  name. 
'lii(^  man  of  wisdom  is  the  man  of  years. 
In  hoary  youth  Methusalenis  may  die  ; 
O  how  ffiisdated  on  their  flatt'ring  tombs  | 

Narcissa's  yciuth  has  lectur'J  me  thus  far  ; 
And  can  her  gaieiy  give  counsel  too? 
"i  hat,  like  the  Jew's  faru'd  oracle  of  gems, 
Sparcles  instruction  ;  such  as  throws  new  lighi, 
And  opens  more  the  character  of  Death, 
III  know  to  thcp,  Lorenzo,  this  thy  vaunt! 
"  Give  Death  )\i%  due,  the  wretched  and  the  old; 
"  Ev'n  let  himi  sweep  his  rubbish  to  the  grave ; 
''  Let  him  not  violate  kind  Nature's  laws, 
'•  But  ovva  man  born  ta  live  a%  vveli  93  die,-* 


THE  RELAPSE.  117 

\i  retched  and  old  thou  givM  him  :  young  and  gay, 
He  lakes  ;  and  plunder  is  a  tyrant's  joy. 
What  if  I  prove,  "The  farthest  from  the  fear 
*'  Are  often  nearest  to  the  stroke  of  fate  ?'* 
All  more  than  common,  menaces  an  end, 
A  blaze  betokens  brevity  of  life, 
As  if  bright  embers  should  emit  a  flame, 
Glad  spirits  sparkled  from  Xarcissa's  eye, 
And  made  youth  younger,  and  taught  life  to  live; 
As  nature's  opposites  wage  endlees  war, 
For  this  offence,  as  treason  to  the  deep 
Inviolable  stupor  of  his  reign, 
"Where  lust,  and  turbulent  ambition,  sleep. 
Death  took  swift  vengeance.     As  he  life  detests, 
More  life  is  still  more  odious :  and  reiluc'd 
Ey  conquest  aggrandizes  more  his  pow'r. 
But  wherefore  aggraudiz'd  ?  by  Heav'n's  decree 
To  plant  the  soul  on  her  eternal  guard, 
In  awful  expectation  of  our  end. 
Thus  runs  Death's  dread  commission  ;*'  Strike,  but  so, 
*'  As  most  alarms  the  living  by  the  dead." 
H*^nce  stratagem  delights  him,  and  surprise, 
A  cruel  sport  with  man's  securities. 
Not  simple  conquest,  triumph  is  his  aim  ; 
A  nd  where  least  fear'd,  there  conquest  triumphs  mc.-:. 
Tais  proves  my  bold  assertion  not  too  bold. 
What  are  his  arts  to  lay  our  fears  asleep  ? 
Tiberian  arts  his  purposes  wrap  up 
In  deep  dissimulation's  darkest  night. 
Like  princes  unconfess'd  in  foreign  courts, 
Who  travel  undercover,  Death  assumes 
The  rarae  and  look  cf  life,  and  dwelia  aaaong  wfg 


\l$  THECOMPLAIXT. 

He  takes  all  shapes  that  serve  his  black  designs  ; 
Tho'  master  of  a  wider  empire  far 
Than  that  o'er  which  the  Romaa  Eagle  flew. 
Like  Nero,  he's  a  fiddler  ;  charioteer ; 
Or  drives  his  phaeton  in  female  guise ; 
^Q,uite  unsuspected,  till  the  wheel  beneath 
His  disarrayM  oblation  he  devours. 

He  most  affects  the  forms  least  like  himself, 
His  slender  self:  hence  burly  corpulence 
Is  his  familiar  wear,  and  sleek  disguise. 
Behind  the  rosy  bloom  he  loves  to  lurk, 
Or  ambush  in  a  smile  :  or,  wanton,  dive 
In  dimples  deep;  Love's  eddies,  which  draw  in 
T'nwary  hearts,  and  sink  them  in  despair. 
Such  on  Narcissa's  couch  he  loiter'd  long 
Unknown,  and  when  detected,  still  was  seen 
To  smile:  such  peace  has  Innocence  in  death  ? 
Most  happy  they  I  whom  least  his  arts  deceive. 
One  eye  on  death,  and  one  full  fix'd  on  heaven, 
Becomes  a  mortal  and  immortal  man. 
Long  on  his  wiles  a  piqu'd  and  jealous  spy, 
I'v  seen,  or  dream'd  I  saw,  the  tyrant  dress, 
Lay  by  his  horrors,  and  put  on  his  smiles. 
Say,  muse,  for  thou  remember'st,  call  it  back, 
And  shew  Lorenzo  the  surprising  scene  ; 
If  'twas  a  dream,  his  genius  can  explain. 

'Twas  in  a  circle  of  the  gay  I  stood  ; 
1>eath  would  have  enter'd ;  Nature  push'd  him  back 
Supported  by  a  doctor  of  renown. 
His  point  he  gain'd ;  then  artfully  dismissM 
The  sage;  for  Death  designed  to  be  conreal'd> 
He  gave  an  old  vivacious  usurrr 


'AHE    RELVPSil.  i  19 

His  meagre  aspect,  and  his  naked  bones ; 

In  gratitude  for  plumping  up  bis  prey, 

A  pamper M  spendtbrit't,  whose  fantastic  air, 

"Well-fashionM  figure,  and  cockaded  brow, 

He  took  in  change,  and  underneath  the  pride 

Of  costly  linen  tuck'd  his  filthy  j-hroud. 

His  crooked  bow  he  straighten'd  to  a  cane. 

And  hid  his  deadly  shafts  in  Myra's  eye. 

The  dreadful  masquerader,  thus  equipp'd, 

Outsallies  on  adventures.    Ask  you  where  ? 

Where  is  he  not  ?  For  his  peculiar  haunts 

Let  this  suflBce  ;  sure  as  night  follows  day. 

Death  treads  in  pleasure's  footsteps  round  the  world, 

When  Pleasure  treads  the  pathswhich  Reason  shuns 

When  against  Reason  Riot  shuts  the  door, 

And  Gaiety  supplies  the  place  of  Sense, 

Then  foremost,  at  the  banquet  and  the  ball. 

Death  leads  the  dance,  or  stamps  the  deadly  dye ; 

Nor  ever  fails  the  midnight  bowl  to  crown. 

Gaily  carousing  to  his  gay  compeers, 

Inly  he  laughs  to  see  them  laugh  at  him, 

As  absent  far  ;  and  when  the  revel  burns. 

When  fear  is  banisb'd,  and  triumphant  Thought, 

Calling  for  all  the  joys  beneath  the  moon, 

Against  him  turns,  the  key,  and  bids  him  sup 

With  their  progenitors — he  drops  bis  mask, 

Frowns  out  at  full;  they  start,  despair,  expire. 

Scarce  with  more  sudden  terror  and  surprise 
From  his  black  mask  of  nitre,  touch'd  by  fire, 
He  bursts,  expands,  roars'  blazes,  and  devours 
And  is  not  this  triuir>phant. treachery, 
And  !iiore  than  simple  conquest  in  the  fient'  ? 


120  THECOMPLAIXT. 

And  now,  Lorenzo,  dost  thou  wrap  thy  soul 
In  soft  security,  because  unknown 
"Which  moment  is  commissiouM  to  destroy  ? 
In  death's  uncertainty  thy  danger  lies. 
Is  death  uncertain  ?  therefore  thou  be  fixM, 
Fix'd  as  a  centinel,  all  eye,  all  ear, 
All  expectation  of  the  coming  foe. 
Rouse,  stand  in  arms,  nor  lean  against  thy  spear, 
Lest  slumber  steal  one  moment  o*er  thy  soul, 
And  Fate  surprise  thee  nodding.    Watch,  be  strong 
Thus  give  each  day  the  merit  and  renow  n 
Of  dying  well,  tho'  doom'd  but  once  to  die. 
Nor  let  life's  period,  hidden  (as  from  most) 
Hide,  too,  from  thee  the  precious  use  of  life. 

Early,  not  sudden,  was  Narcissa's  fate  : 
Soon,  not  surprising,  Death  his  visit  paid  : 
Her  thought  went  forth  to  meet  him  on  his  way, 
Nor  Gaiety  forgot  it  was  to  die. 
Tho'  fortune  too  (our  third  and  final  theme) 
As  an  accomplice,  play'd  her  gaudy  plumes, 
And  ev'ry  glitt'ring  gewgaw,  on  her  sight, 
To  dazzle  and  debauch  it  from  its  mark. 
Death's  dreadful  advent  is  the  mark  of  man, 
And  every  thought  that  misses  it  is  blind. 
Fortune,  with  Youth  and  Gaiety  conspir'd 
To  weave  a  triple  wreath  of  happiness 
(If  happiness  on  eartii)  to  crown  her  brow  ; 
And  could  death  charge  thro'  such  a  shining  Miifld  ? 
That  snining  shield  invites  the  tyrant's  spear, 
As  if  to  damp  our  elevated  aims, 
And  strongly  preach  humility  to  man. 
O  how  portc0tous  h  prosperity  I 


SUE   RELAFS£.  ]  li  1 

How,  coinet-like,  it  threatens  while  it  suines  ; 
Few  years  but  yieM  us  proof  of  Death's  ambitioa, 
To  cull  his  victims  from  the  faire?t  fold, 
And  sheath  his  shafts  in  all  the  pride  of  life. 
When  flooded  with  abundance,  purpled  o'er 
With  recent  honours,  bloomM  with  ev'ry  bliss, 
Set  up  in  ostentation,  made  the  gaze, 
The  j^audy  centre  of  the  public  eye  ; 
When  Fortune,  thus,  has  to?s'd  her  child  in  air, 
SnatchVl  from  the  covert  of  an  humble  state, 
How  often  have  I  seen  him  dropt  at  once, 
Otir  morning's  envy  I  and  our  evening's  sigh! 
As  if  her  bounties  were  the  signal  glv'n, 
The  fiow'ry  wreath,  to  mark  the  sacrifice, 
And  call  death's  arrows  on  the  df  stiii'd  prey. 
High  fortune  seems  in  cruel  league  with  FaJe. 
Ask  you  for  what  ?  To  give  his  war  on  man 
The  deeper  dread,  and  more  illustrious  spoil ; 
Thus  to  keep  daring  mortals  more  in  awe. 
And  burns  Lorenzo  still  for  the  sublime 
Of  life  ?  to  hang  his  airy  nest  on  high, 
On  the  slight  timber  of  the  topmost  bough, 
Rock'd  at  each  breeze,  and  menacing  a  fall  ? 
Granting  grim  death  at  equal  distance  there, 
Yet  peace  begins  just  where  ambition  ends. 
What  makes  man  wretched  ?  happiness  deny'd  ? 
Lorenzo  I  no,  'tis  happiness  disdain'd. 
She  comes  too  meanly  dress'd  to  win  our  smile, 
And  calls  herself  Content,  a  horaoly  name; 
Our  flame  is  transport,  and  content  our  scorn, 
Ambition  turns  and  shuts  the  door  against  her ; 
And  weds  a  toil,  a  tempest  in  her  stead  ; 
A  tempest  to  warm  transport  near  of  kin. 


122  THE  CO.MI'LA.IM'. 

Unknowing  what  our  mortal  state  adiiiiti 
Life's  raodept  joys  we  ruin  while  we  raisi', 
And  all  our  ecstacies  are  wounds  to  peace  ; 
Peace,  the  full  portion  of  mankind  below. 

And  since  t!iy  peace  is  dear,  ambitious  Youth  : 
Of  fortune  fond  !  as  thoughtless  of  thy  fate! 
As  late  I  drew  Death's  picture,  to  stir  up 
Thy  wholesome  fears,  now,  drawn  in  contrast,  see 
Gay  Fortune's,  thy  vain  hopes  to  reprimand. 
See,  high  in  air  the  sportive  goddess  hang?, 
Unlocks  her  casket,  spreads  her  giitt'ring  ware, 
And  calls  the  giddy  winds  to  puff  abroad 
Her  random  bounties  o'er  the  gaping  throng. 
All  rush  rapacious;  friends  o'er  trodden  friends, 
Sons  o'er  their  fathers,  subjects  o'er  their  kiagr~, 
Priests  o'er  their  gods,  and  lovers  o'er  the  fair, 
(Still  more  ador'd  to  snatch  the  golden  ?how'r. 

Gold  glitters  most  where  virtue  shines  no  more, 
As  stars  from  absent  suns  have  leave  to  shine. 
O  what  a  precious  pack  of  votaries, 
Unkennel'd  from  the  prisons  and  ihe  stews, 
Pour  in,  all  op'ning  in  their  idol's  praise  I 
All,  ardent,  eye  each  waftuie  of  her  hand. 
And  wiue-expanding  their  voracious  jaws, 
^Morsel  on  morsel  swallow  down  unchew'd, 
Untasted,  thro'  mad  appetite  for  more  ; 
GorgM  to  the  throat,  yet  lean  and  rav'nous  still : 
Sagacious  all  to  trace  the  smallest  game. 
And  bold  to  seize  the  greatest.     If  (blest  chance  !) 
Couit-Zfphyrs  sweetly  breatlie,  they  launch,  theyfiy, 
O'er  just,  o*er  sacred,  ali-forbldden  ground, 
Diunk  with  the  burning  scent  of  place  or  pow'r. 
■^'niinch  to  the  foot  of  Lucre  till  tbcv  die.- 


TRE   BFLAPsT-.  123 

Or  if  for  men  j'ou  take  them,  as  I  mark 
Q  berr  manners  thou  their  various  fates  survey. 
Witii  aim  mismeasur'd,  and  impetuous  speed, 
5ome  darting,  strike  their  ardent  wish  far  off, 
Tliro'  fury  to  possess  it:  sorae  succeed, 
Bjt  stumble  and  let  fall  the  taken  prize 
From,  some  by  sudden  blasts  'tis  whirl'd  away, 
And  lodg'd  in  bosoms  that  ne'er  dream'd  of  ^ain. 
To  sorae  it  sticks  so  close,  that,  when  torn  off, 
Torn  is  the  man,  and  mortal  is  the  wound. 
Some,  o'er-enamour'd  of  their  bags,  run  mad, 
Groan  under  gold,  yet  weep  ft*r  want  of  bread. 
Together  some  (unhappy  rivals  I)  seize. 
And  rend  abundance  into  poverty  ; 
Loud  croaks  the  raven  of  the  law,  and  smiles ; 
Smiles  too  the  goddess;  but  smiles  moit  at  those 
(Just  victims  of  exorbitant  desire  I) 
"Who  perish  at  their  own  request,  and  whelrn'J 
Beneath  her  load  of  lavish  grants,  expire. 
Fortune  is  famous  for  her  numbers  slain  ; 
The  number  small  which  happiness  can  bear. 
Tho'  various  for  awhile  their  fates,  at  last 
One  curse  involves  them  all  ;  at  death's  approach 
All  read  their  riches  backward  into  loss, 
And  mourn,  in  just  proportion  to  their  store. 

And  Death's  approach  (if  orthodox  my  son^} 
Is  hasten'd  by  the  lure  of  Fortu.ne's  smiles 
And  art  thou  still  a  glutton  of  bright  gtdd  ? 
Aad  art  ihou  still  rapacious  of  thy  ruin  ? 
Death  loves  a  shining  mark,  a  signal  blow  : 
A  blow  which,  while  it  executes,  alarms, 
Ao^  itsrtiea  thousands  with  a  single  fdil 


124  THE  COMPLAIMX. 

As  when  some  stately  gowth  of  oak,  or  pine, 
Which  nods  aloft,  and  proudly  spreds  her  shade, 
The  sun's  defiance  and  the  flock's  defence, 
By  the  strong  strokes  of  lab'ring  hinds  subdu'd, 
Loud  groans  her  last,  and  rushing  from  her  height 
In  cumb'rous  ruin  thunders  to  the  ground  ; 
The  conscious  forest  trenibles  at  the  shock, 
x^nd  hill,  and  stream,  and  distant  dale  resound. 

These  high-aim'd  darts  of  death,  and  these  alone. 
Should  I  collect,  my  quiver  would  be  full ; 
A  quiver  which,  suspended  in  mid  air, 
Or  near  heaven's  archer,  in  the  zodiac,  hang, 
(So  could  it  be)  should  draw  the  public  eye. 
The  gaze  and  contemplation  of  mankind  ; 
A  constellation  awful,  yet  benign, 
To  guide  the  gay  thro'  life's  tempestuous  wave, 
Nor  suffer  them  to  strike  the  common  rock; 
"  From  greater  danger  to  grow  more  secure, 
"  And,  wrapt  in  happiness,  forget  their  faith." 

Lysander,  happy  past  the  common  lot. 
Was  vvarn'd  of  danger,  but  too  gay  to  fear. 
He  woo'd  the  fair  Aspasia  :  she  was  kind  : 
In  youth,    form,    fortune,    fame,    they  both  were 

bless'd : 
All  who  knew,  envy'd ;  yet  in  envy  lov'd  ; 
Can  fancy  form  more  finish'd  happiness? 
Fix'd  was  the  nuptial  hour.     Her  stately  dome 
R^ose  on  the  sounding  beach.    The  glitt'ring  spires 
Float  in  the  wave,  and  break  against  the  shore: 
So  break  those  glitt'ring  shadows,  human  joys. 
The  faithless  morning  prail'd  :  he  takes  his  leave 
To  re-er»', brace,  in  ecstacies,  at  ev?. 


The  rising  storm  forbids.    The  news  arrives ; 

ITntoId  she  saw  it  in  her  servant's  eye. 

She  felt  it  seen  (her  heart  was  apt  to  feel) 

And  drown'd,  without  the  furious  ocean's  aid, 

In  suffocating  sorrows  shares  his  tomb. 

Now  round  the  sumptuous  bridal  monument 

The  guilty  billows  innocently  roar, 

And  the  rough  sailor  passing,  drops  a  tear. 

A  tear? — can  tears  suffice? — but  not  for  rnc. 

How  vain  our  efforts !  and  our  arts  how  vain  ! 

The  distant  train  of  thought  I  took,  to  shun, 

Has  thrown  rae  on  my  fate. — These  dy'd  togethp-  ^ 

Happy  in  ruin  I  undivorc'd  by  death  I 

Or  ne'er  to  meet,  or  ne'er  to  part,  is  peace. — 

Narcissa,  Pity  bleeds  at  thought  of  thee ; 

Yet  thou  wast  only  near  me,  not  myself. 

Survive  myself? — that  cures  all  other  woe, 

Narcissa  lives  ;  Philander  is  forgot. 

O  the  soft  commerce  I  O  the  tender  ties, 

Close  twisted  with  the  fibres  of  the  heart  I 

Which  broken,  break  thera,  and  drain  off  the  soui 

Of  human  joy,  and  raake  it  pain  to  live. — 

And  is  it  then  to  live  I  when  such  friends  part, 

'Tis  the  survivor  dies. — Hv  heart  I  no  more. 


PREFACE 


THE  IXFIDEL  RECLAIMED. 


Few  ages  have  been  deeper  in  dispute  about  reli- 
gion, than  this.  The  dispute  about  religiou,  and 
the  practice  of  it,  seldom  go  together.  The  shorter 
therefore  the  dispute,  the  better.  I  think  it  may  be 
reduced  to  this  single  question,  Is  3Ian  Immortal  ai- 
ls he  not?  If  he  is  not,  all  our  disputes  are  mere 
amusements,  or  trials  of  skill.  In  this  case,  truth, 
reason,  religion,  which  gave  our  discourses  sucli 
pomp  and  soieirinity,  are,  (as  will  be  shewn)  mere 
empty  sounds,  without  any  meaning  in  them  :  But 
if  man  is  immortal,  it  will  behove  him  to  be  very 
serious  about  eternal  consequences;  or,  in  other 
word^,  to  be  truly  religious.  And  this  great  funda- 
mental truth,  unestabiished,  or  una  wakened  in  the 
minds  ofreen,  is,  I  conceive,  the  real  source  and 
support  of  all  our  infidelity  ;  how  remote  soever  the 
particular  objections  advanced  may  seem  to  be  from 
it. 

Sensible  appearances  affect  most  men  much  more 
than  Rb'tract  reasonings;  and  we  daily  see  bodies 
drop  around  us.  but  the  soul  is  invisible.  The  power 
which  inclination  has  over  the  judgment,  h  greater 
than  can  be  well  conceived  by  those  who  have  not 
had  any  experience  of  it ;  and  of  what  numbers  is  it 
the  sad  interest,  that  souls  shouhl  not  survive!  The 
Heathen  world  confessed,  that  they  rather  hoped, 
than  firmly  believed  Jmmoitality !  and  how  many 
Heathens  have  we  still  aniongst  iss!  The  sacred  page 
as-ures  us,  that  life  aud  immortality  are  brought  to 
light  by  ihe  gospel ;  But  by  how  many  is  the  gosijc) 


PREFACE.  127 

pvjccted,  or  ovcrloolicd  ?  From  these  consit!craliori«, 
anil  Irom  uiy  being,  accidefitally,  privy  to  the  seiili- 
naejits  of  some  particular  persons,  1  liave  been  long 
persuaileil,  that  most,  il'  not  all,  our  infidels  (what- 
ever name  they  take,  and  whatever  scheme  for  argu- 
ment's sake,  ant!  to  keep  themselves  in  conntenance, 
they  patronize)  are  supported  in  their  dofilorablo  er- 
ror, by  some  doubt  of  their  innnortality,  at  the  bot- 
tom. Anc*"  I  am  satij'fied,  that  men  once  thoronglily 
convinced  of  their  immortality,  are  not  far  from  be- 
ing Christians.  For  it  is  hard  to  coHceive,  that  a 
man  fully  conscious  eternal  pain  or  happines  will 
certainly  be  his  lot,  should  not  earnestly,  and  im- 
partially, inquire  after  the  surest  means  of  escaping 
one,  and  securing  the  oilier.  And  of  such  an  earnest 
and  imj^artial  inquiry,  I  well  know  the  consequence. 
Here,  tiierefore,  in  proof  of  this  most  fundamen- 
tal tiutii.  some  plain  arguments  are  ottered ;  argti- 
ments  derived  froiu  principles  which  Infidels  adujit 
in  common  with  Relievers;  arguments  which  ap- 
pear to  me  altogether  irresiitible  ;  and  such  as,  I 
em  patisfied,  will  have  great  weight  w  ith  nil  who 
give  themselves  the  small  trouble  of  looking  serious- 
ly into  their  own  bosoms,  and  of  observing,  with 
any  tolerable  degree  of  attention,  ^hat  daily  passes 
round  about  tliera  in  the  world.  If  some  arguments 
shall  here  occur,  which  others  have  declined,  they 
are  submitted,  with  all  deference,  to  better  judg- 
ments in  this,  of  all  points,  the  most  important. 
For  as  to  the  being  of  a  GOD,  that  is  no  longer 
disputed;  but  it  is  undisputed  for  this  reason  only, 
viz.  Because,  w  here  the  least  pretence  to  reason 
i«j  admitted,  it  must  for  ever  be  in(lisputal)ie.  And 
of  conscijuence  no  man  can  be  betruyed  into  a  dis- 
pute of  that  nature  by  vanity,  which  has  a  princi- 
pal share  in  animating  our  nioiiern  combatants 
a'.£ain«t  other  i;rliclcs  of  our  belief. 


THfe 

tJOMPLAIxNT. 

vwvw 

XIGHT  TI, 

vwvw 

THE  IXBIDEL  RECLAIMED. 

IN  TWO  PARTS. 

Containing 
Th.e  Nature,  Prcn)/,  and  Importance  of  Jnunorialii^ 


PART  I. 


Where,  c^nong  other  things,  Glory  and  Riches  are  par- 
ticularly  considered. 

INSCBIBED  TO  THE  RT.  UOTi .    HENRY  PELHAM. 


She*^  (for  I  know  not  yet  her  name  in  lieav'n) 
Not  early,  like  Narcissa,  left  the  scene, 
Nor  sutlden,  like  Philander.     What  avail. ^ 
This  seeming  mitigation  but  inflames : 
This  fancy'd  med'cine  heightens  the  disease. 
The  longer  known,  the  closer  still  she  grew, 
And  gradual  parting  is  a  gradual  death. 
'Tis  the  grim  tyrant's  engine  which  extort?. 

*  Referring  to  Night  the  Fifth. 


THE  IKFIDEL  RECLAIMED.       129 

By  tardy  pressure's  still  increasing  weight, 
From  hardest  hearts  confession  of  distress. 

O  the  long  dark  approach,  thro'  years  of  pain, 
Death's  gall'ry  I  (might  I  dare  to  call  it  so) 
^>Vith  dismal  doubt  and  sable  terror  hung. 
Sick  Hope's  pale  lamp  its  only  glimra'ring  ray: 
There,  Fate  my  melancholy  walk  ordain'd, 
Forbid  SeU-lo\-e  itself  to  flatter,  there. 
How  oft  I  gaz'd  prophetically  sad  I 
How  oft  I  saw  her  dead,  while  yet  in  smiles! 
In  smileK  she  sunk  her  grief  to  lessen  mine  : 
She  spoke  me  comfort,  and  increas'd  ray  pain. 
I>ike  powerful  armies,  trenching  at  a  town, 
By  slow  and  silent,  but  resistless,  sap, 
In  his  pale  progress  gently  gaining  ground, 
Death  nrg'd  his  deadly  siege  ;  in  spite  of  art, 
Of  all  the  balmy  blessings  Nature  lends 
To  succour  frail  humanity.     Ye  Stars  I 
(Xot  now  first  made  familiar  to  my  sight) 
And  thou,  O  moon  I  bear  witness ;  many  a  nigh* 
He  tore  the  pillow  from  beneath  my  head, 
Ty'd  down  my  sore  attention  to  the  shock 
By  ceaseless  depredations  on  a  life 
Dearer  than  that  he  left  me.    Dread fal  post 
Of  observation  !  darker  ev'ry  hour  I 
Less  dread  the  day  that  drove  me  to  the  brink, 
And  pointed  at  eternity  below, 
"When  my  soul  shudder'd  at  futurity, 
"When,  on  a  moment's  point  th'  important  dye 
Of  life  and  death  spun  doubtful,  ere  it  fell. 
And  turn'd  up  life,  m}*  title  to  more  woe. 

But  why  more  woe  ?  3Iore  comfort  let  it  b?. 

ToL.  I.  G 


130  THE  COMPLAINT. 

Nothing  is  dead  but  that  which  vish  to  die; 
Nothing  is  dead  but  wretchedness  and  pain; 
Nothing  is  dead  but  what  incumberVl,  gal!*d, 
Block'd  up  the  pass,  and  barr'd  from  real  life. 
"Where  dwells  that  wish  most  ardent  of  the  wise  F' 
Too  dark  the  sun  to  see  it ;  highest  stars 
Too  low  to  reach  it;  Death,  great  Death  aloncj 
O'er  stars  and  sun.  triumphant,  lands  us  there. 

TSor  dreadful  our  transition,  tho'  the  mind, 
An  artist  at  creating  self-alarms, 
Rich  in  expedients  for  inquietude, 
Is  prone  to  paint  it  dreadful.     Who  can  take 
Death's  portrait  true?  the  tyrant  never  sat. 
Our  sketch  all  random  strokes,  conjecture  all ; 
Close  shuts  the  grave,  nor  tells  one  single  tale. 
Death  and  hi  ■  image  cising  in  the  brain 
Bear  faint  resemblance  ;  never  are  alike; 
Fear  shakes  the  pencil  ;  Fancy  loves  excess ; 
Dark  Ignorance  is  lavish  of  her  shades  ; 
And  these  the  formidable  picture  draw. 

But  grant  the  worst  'Ti«  past :  new  prospects  rise 
And  drop  a  veil  eternal  o'er  her  tomb. 
Far  other  views  our  contemplation  claim, 
Views  that  o'erpay  the  rigour?  of  our  life  ; 
Views  that  suspend  our  agonies  in  death. 
Wrapt  in  the  thought  of  immortality, 
Wrapt  in  the  single,  the  triumphant  thought ! 
".Long  life  might  lapse,  age  unperceiv'd  come  on. 
And  find  the  soul  uusated  with  her  theme. 
Its  nature,  proof,  importance,  f.re  my  song. 
O  that  my  song  could  emulate  my  soul  ! 
l^kf  her,  immortal.     No  ! — the  soul  disdains 
k  mark  so  mean  j  far  nobler  hope  inflames ; 


THE  IMFIDKL  RBCLAIMtD.       131 

If  endless  agos  can  outweigh  an  hour, 
Let  aot  the  laurel,  but  the  palm,  inspire. 
Thy  nature,  immortality  I  who  knows? 
And  yet  who  knows  it  not?  It  is  but  life 
In  .=tronger  thread  of  brij$hter  colour  spun, 
And  spun  for  ever  ;  dipt  by  cruel  Fate 
In  St3'gian  dye,  how  black,  how  brittle,  here  » 
How  fhort  our  correspondence  with  the  =un  ! 
And  while  it  la^^ls  inglorious  !  Our  best  deeds, 
How  wanting  in  their  weight  I  Our  higher^t  joys, 
Small  cordiHl?  to  support  us  ia  our  pain, 
And  give  uh  strength  to  suffer.     But  how  great 
To  mingle  inl'rests,  converse,  amities, 
With  all  the  sons  of  reason,  scatler'd  wide 
Thro'  habitable  space,  wherever  born, 
Howe'er  cndowM  !  To  live  free  citizens 
Of  universal  nature  !  To  lay  hold, 
Py  more  than  feeble  faith,  on  the  Supreme  ! 
To  call  heav'n's  rich  unfathomable  mines 
(.'vline<  »\  hich  support  archanglesin  their  state) 
Our  own  I  to  rise  in  science  as  in  bliss. 
Initiate  in  the  secrets  of  the  skies  I 
To  read  creation  ;  read  its  mighty  plaa 
In  the  bare  bosom  of  the  Deity  I 
The  plan  and  execution  to  collate! 
To  see,  before  each  glance  of  piercing  thought 
All  cloud,  all  shadow,  blown  remote,  and  leave 
No  mystery— but  that  of  lf>ve  divine, 
AThich  lifts  us  on  the  seraph's  flaming  wing, 
From  earth's  Aceldama,  this  field  of  blood, 
Ofinuard  anguish,  and  of  outward  ill, 
From  darknefis  and  from  dust,  to  such  a  scene ! 


132  THE  COMPLAINT. 

Love's  element !  true  joy's  illustrious  horae  i 
From  earth's  sad  contrast  (now  deplor'd)  more  fair  I 
What  exquisite  vicissitude  of  fate! 
Bless'd  absolution  of  our  blackest  hour! 

Lorenzo,  these  are  thoughts  that  make  man  Man. 
The  wise  illumine,  aggrandize  the  great. 
How  great  (while  yet,  we  tread  the  kindred  clod, 
And  ev'ry  moment  fear  to  sink  beneath 
The  clod  we  tread,  soon  trodden  by  our  sons) 
How  great,  in  the  wild  whirl  of  time's  pursuits, 
To  stop,  and  pause ;  involv'd  in  high  presage 
Thro'  the  long  visto  of  a  thousand  years, 
To  stand  contemplating  our  distant  selves, 
As  in  a  magnifying  mirror  seen, 
Enlarg'd,  ennobled,  elevate,  divine  ! 
To  prophesy  our  own  futurities ! 
To  gaze  in  thought  on  what  all  thought  transcends  ' 
To  talk,  with  fellow-candidates,  of  joys 
As  far  beyond  conception  as  desert, 
Ourselves  th'  astonish'd  talkers  and  the  tale  ! 

Lorenzo,  swells  thy  bosom  at  the  thought  ? 
The  swell  becomes  thee  :  'tis  an  honest  pride. 
Revere  thyself, — and  yet  thyself  despise. 
His  nature  no  man  can  o'er-rate,  and  none 
Can  under-rate  his  merit.    Take  good  heed, 
Nor  there  be  modest  where  thou  shouldst  be  prcKid  : 
That  almost  universal  error  shun. 
How  just  our  pride,  when  we  behold  those  heights ! 
Not  those  Ambition  paints  in  air,  but  those 
Keason  paints  out,  and  ardent  Virtue  gains, 
And  angels  emulate.    Our  pride  how  just ! 
When  mount  we  ?  when  these  shakies  cast  ?  when 

(5Uit 


THE  INFIDEL  RECLAIMED.       133 

This  cell  of  the  creation?  this  ."mall  nest, 
Stuck  in  a  corner  of  the  universe, 
Wrapt  up  in  ileecy  cloud  and  fine-spun  air  ? 
Fine-spun  to  sense,  but  gross  and  feculent 
To  souis  celestial :  souls  ordainM  to  breathe 
Ambrosial  gales,  and  drink  a  pnrer  sky  ; 
Greatly  triumphant  on  Time's  farther  shore, 
Where  virtue  reigns,  enrich'd  with  full  arrearg , 
While  Porap  imperial  begs  an  alms  of  Peace. 

In  empire  high,  or  in  proud  science  deep, 
Ye  born  of  Earth,  on  what  can  you  confer, 
With  half  the  dignity,  with  half  the  gain, 
The  gust,  the  glow  of  rational  delight, 
As  on  this  theme,  which  angels  praise  and  share? 
Man's  fates  and  favours  are  a  theme  in  heav'n. 

What  wretched  repetition  cloys  us  here? 
What  periodic  potions  for  the  sick  ! 
Distemper'd  bodies  !  and  dlstemper'd  minds  ! 
In  an  eternity,  what  scenes  shall  strike  I 
Adventures  thicken!  novelties  surprise  I 
W^hat  webs  of  wonder  shall  unravel  there  ! 
What  full  day  pour  on  all  the  paths  of  heav'n, 
And  light  th'  Almighty's  footsteps  in  the  deep  ! 
How  shall  the  blessed  day  of  our  discljarge 
Unwind,  at  once,  the  labyrinths  of  Fate, 
And  straighten  it>  inextricable  maze  I 

If  inextinguishable  thirst  in  man 
To  know?  how  rich,  how  full,  our  banquet  thers  I 
There,  not  the  moral  world  alone  unfolds ; 
The  world  material,  lately  seen  in  shades, 
And  in  those  shades  by  fragments  only  seen, 
And  seen  those  fragoients  by  thelab'ring  eye, 


154  TitE  COMPLAINT. 

Unbroken,  then,  illustrious  anil  entire, 
>  Its  ample  sphere,  its  universal  frame, 
In  full  dimensions,  swells  to  the  survey, 
And  enters,  at  one  glance,  the  ravish'd  sight. 
From  some  superior  point  (where  who  can  tell  ? 
SufBce  it,  'tis  a  point  where  gods  reside) 
How  shall  the  stranger,  man's  illumin'd  eye, 
In  the  vast  ocean  of  unbounded  space,. 
Behold  an  infinite  of  floating  worlds 
Divide  the  crystal  ^v•aves  of  ether  pure. 
In  endless  voyage,  without  port?  The  least 
Of  these  disseminated  orbs  how  great! 
Great  as  they  are,  what  numbers  these  surpass, 
Huge  as  leviathan  to  that  small  race, 
Those  twinkling  multitudes  of  little  life, 
He  swallows  unperceiv'd  !  Stupendous  these! 
Yet  what  are  these  stupendous  to  the  whole  ? 
As  particles,  as  atoms  ill-perceiv'd  ; 
As  circulating  globules  in  our  veins ; 
So  vast  the  plan.     Fecundity  divine  I 
Exuberant  sourcel  perhaps  I  wrong  thee  still. 

If  admiration  is  a  source  of  joy. 
What  transport  hence  !  yet  this  the  least  in  heav'n- 
What  this  to  that  illustrious  robe  he  wears. 
Who  toss'd  this  mass  of  wonders  from  his  hand 
A  specimen,  an  earnest  of  his  pov/'r  ? 
'Tis  to  that  glory,  whence  all  glory  (lows. 
As  the  mead's  meanest  flow'ret  to  the  sun 
Which  gave  it  birth.  But  what  this  sun  of  heav'n? 
This  bliss  supreme  of  th'  supremely  blest  ? 
Death,  only  death,  the  question  can  resolve. 
By  death  cheap  bought  th'  ideas  of  our  joy ; 


THF  IXFIDEL    RECLAIMED.  13j> 

The  bare  ideas  !  soliJ  happiness 

So  distant  from  its  shadow  chas'd  belo\r. 

And  chase  we  ftill  the  phantom  thro'  the  fire, 
O'er  bog,  and  brake,  and  precipice  till  death? 
And  toil  we  still  for  sublunary  pay? 
Defy  the  dangers  of  the  field  and  flood, 
Or,  spider-like,  spin  out  our  precious  all, 
Our  more  than  vital?  spin  (if  no  regard 
To  great  futurity)  in  curious  webs 
Of  subtle  thought  and  exquisite  design. 
(Fine  network  of  the  brain  !)  to  catch  a  fly  * 
The  momentary  buz  of  vain  renown  1 
A  name  I  a  mortal  immortality  » 

Or  (meaner  still)  instead  of  gra?ping  air, 
For  sordid  lucre  plunge  we  in  the  mire  ? 
Drudge,  sweat,  thro' ev'ry  shame,  for  ev'ry  gain, 
For  vile  contaminating  trash  ;  throw  up 
Our  hope  in  heav'n,  our  dignity  with  man. 
And  deify  the  dirt  matur'd  to  gold  ? 
Ani!)ition,  Av'rice,  the  two  deeraons  these 
Which  goad  thro'  ev'ry  slough  our  human  herd, 
Haid-traveil'd  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave, 
How  low  the  wretches  stoop  I  how  steep  they  cliinb  : 
The?e  daemons  burn  mankind,  but  most  possess 
Lorenzo's  bosom,  and  turn  out  the  skies. 
Is  it  in  time  to  hide  eternity  ? 
And  why  not  in  an  atom  on  the  shore 
To  cover  ocean  ?  or  a  mote  the  sun  ?  ' 

Glory  and  wealth  I  have  I'ley  this  blinding  pow'r  .' 
What  if  to  them  I  prove  Lorenzo  blind  ? 
Would  it  surprise  thee  ?  Be  thou  then  surpris'd  : 
Th9U  lieitber  kaow'st :  their  nature  learn  from  me. 


13G  THE  COMPLAINT. 

Mark  well,  as  foreign  as  these  subjects  seem. 
AYhat  close  connection  ties  them  to  my  theme. 
First,  what  is  true  ambition  ?  The  pursuit 
Of  glory  nothing  less  than  man  can  bhare. 
Were  they  as  vain  as  gaudy-minded  man, 
As  fiatuleut  with  fumes  of  self-applause. 
Their  arts  and  conquests  animals  might  boast, 
And  claim  their  laurel  crowns  as  well  as  we, 
But  not  celestial      Here  we  stand  alone ; 
As  in  our  form,  distinct,  pre-eminent; 
If  prone  in  thought,  our  stature  is  our  shame  ; 
An<l  man  should  blush,  his  forehead  meets  the  skies. 
The  visible  and  present  are  for  brutes, 
A  slender  portion  !  and  a  narrow  bound  I 
Tiiese.  Reason,  with  an  energy  divine, 
O'erleaps,  and  claims  the  future  and  imseen  ; 
The  vast  unseen  !  the  future  fathomless  ! 
When  the  great  soul  buoys  up  to  this  high  point, 
Leaving  gross  Nature's  sediments  below, 
Then,  and  then  only,  Adam's  offspring  quits 
The  sage  and  hero  of  the  fields  and  woods, 
Asserts  his  rank,  and  rises  into  man. 
This  is  ambition  :  this  is  human  fire. 

Can  parts,  or  place  (two  bold  pretenders  !)  icakei 
Lorenzo  great,  and  pluck  him  from  the  throng? 

Genius  and  art,  ambition's  boasted  wings, 
Our  boast,  but  ill  deserve.     A  feeble  aid  I 
Dedalion  engin'ry  !  If  these  alone 
Assist  our  fli,rht  fame's  flight  is  glory's  fall, 
Heart-merit  wanting,  mount  we  ne'er  so  high. 
Our  height  is  but  the  gibbet  of  our  name. 
A  celebrated  wretch  when  I  behold, 
WUea  I  behold  ji  genius  bright,  and  base, 


THE  INFIDEL  EECLA.1MED.       137 

Of  toivVin;;  talents  and  terrestrial  aims  ; 
Jlfthink?  I  see,  as  thrown  from  her  high  sphere, 
The  glorious  fragments  of  a  soul  immortal, 
Wiih  rubhish  raixM,  and  glitt'ring  in  the  dust, 
Struck  at  the  splendid,  melancholy  sight, 
At  once  compassion  soft,  and  envy,  rise 
But  wherefore  envy  ?  Talents  angel-bright, 
If  wanting  worth,  are  shining  instruments 
In  false  ambition's  hand,  to  finish  faults 
Illustrious,  aud  give  infiimy.renown.i 

Great  ill  is  an  achievement  of  great  powers  . 
Plain  sense  but  rarely  leads  us  far  astray. 
Reason  the  raeans,  affections  choose  our  end  ; 
3Iea!is  hav^e  no  merit,  if  our  end  amiss. 
If  wrong  our  hearts,  our  heads  are  right  in  vain  , 
What  is  a  Pclham's  head  to  Pelham's  heart  1 
Hearts  are  proprietors  of  all  applause. 
Right  ends  and  means  make  wisdom  :  Worldly  wigt 
Is  but  half-witted,  at  its  highest  praise. 

Let  genius  then  despair  to  make  thee  great  ; 
Nor  tlatter  station.     What  is  station  high? 
'Tis  a  proud  mendicant ;  it  boasts,  and  begs  ; 
It  begs  an  alms  of  homage  from  the  throng, 
And  oft  the  th;ong  denies  its  charity. 
Monarch*,  and  ministers,  are  awful  names ; 
Whoever  wear  them,  challenge  our  devoir. 
Religion,  public  order,  both  exact 
Exiernal   homage,  and  a  supple  knee, 
To  beings  pompously  set  up,  to  serve 
The  meanest  slave ;  all  more  is  merit's  due^ 
IJer  sacrf-'d  and  inviolable  right ; 
Nor  ever  paid  the  monarch,  but  the  man, 
G2 


138  'i'HE  coMPI.AI^-T. 

Our  hearts  ne'er  bow  but  to  superior  worth  ; 

Nor  ever  fail  of  their  allegiance  there. 

Fools,  indeed,  drop  the  man  in  their  account, 

And  vote  the  mantle  into  majesty. 

Let  the  small  savage  boast  his  silver  fur ; 

His  royal  robe  unborrowed,  and  unbought. 

His  own,  descending  fairly  from  his  sires. 

Shall  man  be  proud  to  wear  his  livery, 

And  souls  in  ermine  scorn  a  soul  without  ? 

Can  place  or  lessen  us,  or  aggrandize  ? 

Pigmies  are  pigmies  still,  tho'  perch'd  on  Alps  j 

And  pyramids  are  pyramids  in  vales. 

Each  man  makes  his  own  stature,  builds  himself: 

Virtue  alone  out-builds  the  pyramids ; 

Her  monuments  shall  last,  when  Egypt's  fall, 

Of  these  sure  truths  dost  thou  demand  the  cause  ? 
The  cause  is  lodg'd  in  immortality. 
Hear,  and  assent.    Thy  bosom  burns  for  pow'r  ; 
What  station  charms  thee  ?  I'll  instal  thee  there; 
'Tis  thine.     And  art  thou  greater  than  before  ? 
Then  thou  before  wast  something  less  than  man. 
Has  thy  new  post  betray'd  thee  into  pride  ? 
That  treach'rous  pride  betrays  thy  dignity  ? 
That  pride  defames  humanity,  and  calls 
The  being  mean,  which  staffs  or  strings  can  raise. 
That  pride,  like  hooded  hawks  in  darkness  soars, 
From  blindness  bold,  and  tow'ring  to  the  skies. 
*Tis  born  of  ignorance,  which  knows  not  man  J 
An  angel's  second  ;  nor  his  second  long. 
A  Nero  quitting  his  imperial  throne. 
And  courting  glory  from  the  tinkling  string, 
But  faintly  shadows  an  immortal  soul, 
With  empire's  self,  to  pride  or  rapture  fir'd; 


THE    IJ^PIDEL  RECLAIMED.  139 

If  nobler  motive's  minister  no  cure, 
Es''n  vanity  forbids  tiiee  to  be  vain. 

High  uortlj  is  elevated  place ;  'tis  more; 
It  makes  tlie  post  stand  candidate  for  thee  : 
Makes  more  than  monarch's,  makes  an  honest  man  ; 
Tho'  no  exchequer  it  commands,  'tis  wealth  ; 
And  tho'  it  wears  no  ribband,  'tis  renown  ; 
Renown,  that  would  not  quit  thee,  tho'  disgrac'J, 
Nor  leave  thee  pendant  on  a  master's  smiie. 
Other  ambition  nature  interdicts: 
Nature  proclaims  it  mostabsnid  in  man, 
By  pointing  at  his  origin,  and  end  ; 
Milk  and  a  swathe,  at  first  his  whole  demarxi  ; 
His  whole  domain,  at  last,  a  turf  or  stone  ; 
To  whom,  between,  a  world  may  seera  too  small. 

Souls  truly  great,  dart  forward  on  the  wing 
Ofjust  ambition  to  the  grand  result. 
The  curtain's  fall ,  there,  see  the  buskin'd  cliief 
Unshod  behind  this  momentary  scene  ; 
lleduc'd  to  his  own  stature,  low  or  high, 
As  vice,  or  virtue,  sinks  him,  or  sublimes  ; 
And  iaugh  at  this  fantastic  mummery,' 
This  antic  prelude  of  grotesque  events, 
"Where  dwarfs  are  o'len  stilted,  and  betray, 
A  littleness  of  soul  by  worlds  o'er-run, 
And  nations  laid  in  blood.     Dread  sacrifice 
To  christian  pride  I  which  had  with  horr(>r  shock'd 
The  darkest  pagans,  oller'il  to  their  gods. 

O  thou  most  chi-istian  euemy  to  peace  I 
Again  inarms?  again  provoking  fate? 
That  priiice,  and  that  alone,  is  truly  great, 
"Vrho  di-iius  the  sword  reluctant,  gladly  sheathefc  I 


l40  tHECOilPLArNf. 

On  empire  builus  what  empire  far  out-welgli?, 
And  makes  bis  throne  a  scatFold  to  the  skies. 
Why  this  po  rare  ?  because  forgot  of  all 
The  <lay  of  death  ,  that  venerable  day, 
Which  sits  as  judge  ;  that  day  which  shal'  pronounce 
On  all  our  days,  absolve  Ihem,  or  condemn. 
Tjorenzo,  never  shut  thy  thought  against  it ; 
Be  ievees  ne'er  so  full,  afford  it  room, 
"And  give  it  audience  in  the  cabinet. 
That  friend  consulted  (flatteries  apart) 
"VVil!  tell  thee  fair,  if  thou  art  great  or  mean. 
To  doat  on  aught  may  leave  us,  or'be  left, 
Is  that  ambition  ?  Then  let  flames  descend, 
Point  to  the  centre  their  inverted  spires, 
And  learn  humiliation  from  a  soul, 
Which  boasts  her  lineage  from  celestial  fire. 
Yet  these  are  they  the  w^orld  pronounces  wise  ; 
The  world,  which  cancel'-;  nature's  right  and  wrong. 
And  casts  new  wisdom  :  Ev'n  the  grave  man  lends 
His  solemn  face  to  countenance  the  coin. 
Wisdom  for  parts  is  madness  for  the  whole. 
This  stamps  the  paradox,  and  gives  us  leave 
To  call  the  wisest  weak,  the  richest  poor. 
The  most  ambitious,  unambitious,  mean  ; 
In  triumph,  mean  ;  and  abject  on  a  throne. 
Nothing  can  make  it  less  than  mad  in  man, 
To  put  forth  all  hisordour,  all  his  art, 
And  give  his  soul  her  full  unbounded  flight.  * 

But  reaching  him,  who  gave  her  wing?^to  fly. 
When  blind  ambition  quite  mistakes  her  road, 
And  downward  pores,  for  that  which  shines  above, 
Substantial  happiness,  and  true  renown, 
Then,  like  an  idiot  gazing  on  the  brook. 


THE  IXPIDEL   TlECLAlMEO.  j/Jl 

We  leap  at  stars,  and  fasten  in  the  tnud  ; 
At  glory  grasp,  and  «u)k  in  infamy. 

Ambition  !  pow'rful  source  of  good  and  ill ! 
Thy  strength*  in  man,  like  length  of  wing  in  birds  ; 
"When  disengag'd  from  earth,  with  greater  ease, 
And  swifter  flight,  transports  us  to  the  skies  ; 
By  toys  entangled,  or  in  guilt  bemir'd. 
It  turns  a  curse  :  it  is  our  chain,  and  scourge, 
In  this  dark  dungeon,  where  confin'd  we  tie. 
Close-grated  by  the  sordid  bars  of  sense; 
All  prospect  of  eternity  shut  out ; 
^Lnd,  but  for  execution,  ne'er  set  free. 
With  error  in  ambition  justly  charg'd, 
Find  we  Lorenzo  wiser  in  his  wealth  ? 
"What  if  thy  rental  I  reform  ;  and  draw 
An  Inventory  new  to  set  thee  right  ? 
Wher?,  thy  true  treasure  ?  Gold  says,  '  not  in  me  ' 
And,  '  not  in  me,' theDi'inond.     Gold  is  poor; 
India's  insolvent:  seek  it  in  thyself, 
Seek  in  thy  naked  self,  and  find  it  Uiers : 
In  being  so  descended,  forra'd,  endow'd  ; 
Sky-born,  sky-guided,  shy-returning  racs  ! 
Erect  immortal,  rational,  divine  I 
In  senses  which  inherit  earth,  and  heavn's; 
Enjoy  the  various  riches  nature  yields ; 
Far  nobler;  give  the  riches  they  enjoy  : 
Give  taste  to  fruits  ;  and  harmony  to  groves ; 
Their  radiant  beams  to  gold,  and  gold's  bright  sire: 
Take  in,  at  once,  the  landscape  of  the  world 
At  a  small  inlet,  which  a  grain  might  close. 
And  half-create  the  wond'rous  world  they  sec. 
Gur  senses,  as  our  reason,  are  divine. 


142  THE  COMPLAIKT. 

But  for  the  magic  organ's  pow'rful  charm, 

Earth  were  a  rude,  uncolour'd  chaos,  still. 

Objects  are  but  th*  occasion  ;  ours  th*  exploits 

Ours  is  tiie  cloth,  the  pencil,  and  the  paint, 

Which  nature's  admirable  picture  draws, 

And  beautifies  creation's  ample  dome. 

Like  Milton's  Eve,  when  gazing  on  the  lake, 

Man  makes  the  matchless  image,  man  admires. 

Say  then,  shall  man,  his  thoughts  all  sent  abroad 

(Superior  wonders  in  himself  forgot) 

His  admiration  waste  on  objects  round, 

When  heav'n  makes  him  the  soul  of  all  he  sees? 

Absurd  I  not  rare  !  so  great,  so  mean,  is  man. 

AVhat  wealth  in  senses  such  as  these  I  What  wealtk 
In  fancy,  fir'd  to  form  a  faiier  scene. 
Than  sense  surveys  !  In  memory's  firm  record, 
Which,  should  it  perish,  could  this  world  recall 
From  the  dark  shadows  of  o'erwhelming  years  ! 
In  colours  fresh  originally  bright, 
Preserve  its  portrait,  and  report  its  fate  I 
What  wealth  in  intellect,  that  sov'reign  pow'r  I 
Which  sense,  and  fancy  ^ummons  to  the  bar: 
Interrogates,  approves,  or  reprehends  : 
And  from  the  mass  those  underlings  i.-nport, 
From  their  materials  sifted  and  refin'd, 
And  in  truth's  balance  accurately  weigh'd. 
Forms  art,  and  science,  government,  and  law  ; 
The  solid  basis,  and  the  beauteous  frame, 
The  vitals  and  the  grace  of  civil  life  ! 
And  manners  (sad  exception  !)  set  aside, 
Stril^es  out,  with  master-hand,  a  copy  fair 
Of  his  idea,  whose  indulgent  thought, 
iuDgj  lon^,  ere  chaos  leem'd,  plann'd  huniftn  bliss. 


tHE  INFIDEL  RECLAIMED.       143 

"What  wealth  in  souls  that  «oar,(live, range  around, 
Disdaining  limit,  or  from  place,  or  time  ; 
And  hear  at  once,  in  thought  extensive,  hear, 
Th'  almighty  fiat,  and  the  trumpet's  sound  ? 
Bold,  on  creation's  outside  walk,  and  view 
"What  was,  and  is,  and  more  than  e'er  shall  be  ; 
Commanding,  with  omnipotence  of  thouglit, 
Creation's  new  in  fancy's  field  to  rise  I 
Soulf,  that  can  grasp  whate'erthe  Almighty  made, 
And  wander  wild  thro'  things  impossible  I 
"What  wealth,  in  faculties  of  endless  growth. 
In  quenchless  passions  violent  to  crave, 
In  liberty  to  choose,  in  power  to  reach. 
And  in  duration  (how  thy  riches  rise  !) 
Duration  to  perpetuate — boundless  bliss  .' 

Ask  you,  what  pow'er  resides  in  feeble  man 
Tiiat  bliss  to  gain  ?  Is  virtue's,  then  unknown  ? 
Virtue,  our  present  peace,  our  future  prize, 
Man's  unprecarious,  natural  estate, 
Improveable  at  will,  in  virtue  lies  ; 
Its  tenure  sure  ;  its  income  is  divine. 

High-built  abundance,  heap  on  heap  !  for  what? 
To  breed  new  wants  and  beggar  us  the  more  ! 
Then,  make  a  richer  scramble  for  the  throng. 
Soon  as  this  feeble  pulse,  which  leaps  so  long 
Almost  by  miracle,  is  tir'd  with  play, 
Like  rubbish  from  disploding  engines  thrown, 
Our  magazines  of  hoarded  trifles  fly; 
Fly  diverse ;  fly  to  foreigners,  to  foes ; 
New  masters  court,  and  call  the  former  fool 
(How  justly  I)  for  dependence  on  their  stay. 
"Wide  scatter,  first  oar  play  things ;  then  our  dujt. 


144  THE    C05£PLAI^'T. 

Dost  court  aboun-lance  for  the  sake  of  pertce  ? 

Learn,  and  latTier;t  thy  self-Mefeated  scheme  ■ 

Riches  enable  to  be  richer  still  ; 

Au(\,  richer  still,  what  mortal  can  resist? 

Thus  wealth  (a  cruel  task-raaster  !}•  enjoins 

New  toils,  succeeding  toils,  an  endless  train  ! 

And  murders  peace,  which  taught  it  first  to  shine. 

The  poor  are  half  as  wretched  as  the  rich  ; 

"Whose  proud  and  painful  privilege  it  is, 

At  once,  to  bear  a  doable  load  of  woe; 

To  feel  the  stings  of  envy  ;  and  of  want, 

Outrageous  want!  both  iiulies  cannot  cure. 
A  competence  is  vital  to  content. 

Much  wealth  is  corpulence,  if  not  disease  ; 

Sick,  or  incufnber'd,  is  our  happiness, 

A  competence  is  all  we  can  enjoy. 

O  be  content,  where  beav'n  can  can  give  no  more  ! 

More,  like  a  flash  of  water  from  a  lock, 

Quickens  our  spirit's  movement-4'or  an  hour  ; 
But  soon  its  force  is  spent,  nor  rise  our  joys. 

Above  our  native  temper's  common  stream. 
Hence  disappointment  lurks  in  ev'ry  prize, 
As  bees  in  flovv'rs,  and  stings  u6  with  success. 

The  rich  man,  who  denies  it,  proudly  feigns; 
Nor  knows  the  wise  are  privy  to  the  lie. 
Much  learning  shows  how  little  mortals  know  ! 
Much  wealtii ;  how  little  worldlings  can  enjoy; 
At  best,  it  babies  us  with  endless  toys, 
And  keeps  us  children  till  we  drop  to  dust. 
As  monkies  at  a  mirror  stand  amaz'd, 
They  fail  to  find  what  they  so  plainly  see  ; 
Thus  meiij  in  shiaing  riches,  see  the  face 


THB  ISEIDEL  nECLA-IMED.       145 

Of  happiness,  nor  know  it  as  a  shade, 

jBut  gaze,  and  touch,  and  peep,  and  peep  •gain, 

!And  wish,  and  wonder  it  is  absent  still. 

How  ffew  can  rescue  opulence  from  want ! 
Who  lives  to  Nature  rarely  can  be  poor  ; 
Who  Uses  to  Fancy,  never  can  be  rich. 
Poor  is  the  man  in  debt ;  the  man  of  gold, 
In  debt  to  Fortune,  trembles  at  her  pow'r. 
The  man  of  reason  smiles  at  her,  and  death. 
O  what  a  patrimony  this  I  A  being 
Of  such  inherent  {strength  and  majesty, 
Not  worlds  posse.st  can  raise  it :  worlds  destroy 'J 
Can't  injure;  which  holds  on  its  glorious  course, 
When  thine,  O  Nature!  ends;  too  blest  to  moufa 
Creation's  obsequies.     What  treasure  this  ; 
The  monarch  is  a  beggar  to  the  man. 

Immortal  !  Ages  past,  ypt  n(jthing  gone  I 
3Iorn  without  eve  I  a  race  without  a  goal ; 
Un!?hortenM  by  progression  infuiite  ! 
Futurity  for  ever  future !  Life 
Beginning  still,  where  computation  ends  I 
'Tis  the  description  of  a  deity  I 
'Tis  the  description  of  the  meanest  slave: 
The  meanest  slave  dares  then  Lorenzo  scorn  ? 
The  meanest  slave  thy  sovreign  glory  shares. 
Proud  youth  ;  fastidious  of  the  lower  world  1 
Man's  lawful  pride  includes  humility ; 
Stoops  to  the  lowest:  is  too  great  to  find 
Inferiors ;  all  immortal  !  Brothers  all  I 
Proprietors  eternal  of  thy  love. 
Immortal  !  What  can  strike  the  sense  so  strong, 
As  this  the  80ul  ?  It  thunders  to  the  thought ; 


146  THECOMPLAlxNt* 

Reason  amazes;  gratitude  o'ervvhelms; 

No  more  we  slumber  on  the  brink  of  fate  ; 

Rous'd  at  the  sound,  th'  exulting  soul  ascend?, 

And  breathes  her  native  air;  an  air  that  feeds 

Ambitions  high,  and  fans  ethereal  fires  ; 

€tuick' kindles  all  that  is  divine  within  us, 

Ts'or  leaves  one  loit'ring  thought  beneath  the  stars. 

Has  notLorenzo*s  bosom  caught  the  flame  ? 

Immortal !  VTere  but  one  immortal,  how 

Would  others  envy  I  How  would  thrones  adore  I 

Because  'tis  common,  is  the  blessing  lost  ? 

How  this  ties  up  the  bounteous  hand  of  heaven  I 

O  vein,  vain,  vain  !  all  else  !  Eternity  I 

A  glorious,  and  a  needful  refuge,  that. 

From  vile  imprisonment  in  abject  views. 

*TIs  immortality,  'tis  that  alone, 

Amid  life's  pains,  abasements,  emptiness, 

The  soul  can  comfort,  elevate,  and  fill. 

That  only,  and  that  amply,  this  performs  ; 

Lifts  us  above  life's  pains,  her  joys  above  ; 

Their  terror  those ;  and  these  their  lustre  lose ; 

Eternity  depending,  covers  all ; 

Eternity  depending  all  achieves  ;  i 

Sets  earth  at  distance ;  casts  her  into  shac^es; 

Blends  her  distinctions;  abrogates  her  powrs; 

The  low,  the  lofty,  joyous,  and  severe, 

Fortune's  dread  frows  and  fascinating  smiles, 

[Make  one  promiscuous  and  neg'ected  heap, 

The  man  beneath  ;  if  I  may  call  him  man, 

Whom  immortality's  full  force  inspires. 

Nothing  terrestrial  touches  his  high  thought ; 

Suns  shine  unseen,  and  thunders  roil  unhear^^ 


TitE    IXFIOEL  RECLAIMED.  147 

3y  minds  quite  conscious  of  their  high  descent, 
Their  present  province,  and  their  future  prize; 
divinely  darting  upward  ev'ry  wish, 
fVann  on  the  wing,  in  glorious  absence  lost. 

Doubt  you  this  truth?  Why  labours  your  belief? 
f  earth's  whole  orb,  by  some  due  distanc'd  eye 
iVere  seen  at  once,  her  tovvVing  Alps  would  sink, 
4.nd  levell'd  Atlas  leave  an  even  i^phere. 
Thus  earth,  and  all  that  earthly  mindg  admire, 

swullow'J  in  Eternity's  va?t  round. 
To  that  stupendous  view,  when  souls  awake, 
>o  large  of  late,  so  rnouatainous  to  man, 
rime's  toys  subside  ;  and  equal  all  belo\r. 

Enthusiastic  this?  tlien  all  are  weak, 
3ut  rank  enthusiasts.     To  this  godlike  height 
>oaie  souls  have  soar'd  ;  or  martyrs  ne'er  had  bled. 
\nd  all  may  da,  what  has  by  man  been  done. 
iVho,  beaten  by  these  sublunary  storms, 
Boundless,  interminable  joys  can  weigh, 
Jnraptur'd,  unexalled.  uninilam'd? 
liVhat  slave  unblest,  who  from  to-morrow's  dawa 
Kxpecfs  an  empire  ?  he  forgets  his  chain, 
A.nd,  thron'd  in  thought,  his  absent  sceptre  waves. 

And  what  a  sceptre  waits  us !  what  a  throne  1 
ler  own  immense  appointments  to  compute, 
)r comprehend  her  high  prerogatives, 
n  this  her  dark  minority,  how  toils, 
low  vainly  pants  tlie  human  soul  divine! 
Coo  great  the  bounty  seems  for  earthly  joy  ! 
iVhat  heart  but  trembles  at  so  strange  a  bliss  ? 

In  spite  of  all  the  truths  th"  muse  has  sung, 
^a'er  to  be  pria'd  enoiiirU  !  enough  revolved  ? 


148  THE  COMPLAINT. 

Are  there  who  wrap  the  world  so  close  about  them, 
They  see  no  farther  than  the  clouds  ?  and  dance 
On  heedless  Vanity's  fantastic  toe, 
Till,  stumbling  at  a  straw,  in  their  career, 
Headlong  they  plunge,  where  end  both  dance  and 

song? 
Are  there,  Lorenzo  ?  Is  it  possible? 
Are  there  on  earth  (let  me  not  call  them  men) 
"Who  lodge  a  soul  immortal  in  their  breasts  ; 
Unconscious  as  the  mountain  of  its  ore  ; 
Or  rock,  of  its  inestimable  gem  ? 
"When  rocks  shall  melt,  and  mountains  vanish,  these 
Shall  know  their  treasure,  treasure,  then,  no  more.  1 

Are  there  (still  more  amazing  I)  who  resist 
The  rising  thought  ?  who  smother,  in  its  birth, 
The  glorious  truth?  who  struggle  to  be  brutes  f 
Who  thro'  this  bosom  barrier  burst  their  way ; 
And,  with  revers'd  ambition,  strive  to  sink  ? 
"Who  labour  downwards  thro'  th' opposing  pow'ri. 
Of  instinct,  reason,  and  the  world  against  them, 
To  dismal  hopes,  and  shelter  in  the  shock 
Of  endless  Night !  Night  darker  than  the  grave'*  I 
Who  fight  the  proofs  of  immortality  ! 
"With  horrid  zeal,  and  execrable  arts, 
"Work  all  their  engines,  level  their  black  fires, 
To  blot  from  man  this  attribute  divine,  I 

(Than  vital  blood  far  dearer  to  the  wise) 
Blasphemers,  and  rank  atheists  to  themselves? 

To  contradict  them,  see  all  nature  rise  : 
"What  object,  what  event,  the  moon  beneath, 
Eut  argues,  or  endears,  an  after-?cene  I 
To  reason  proves,  or  weds  it  to  Desiril 


THE   tNPlDEI.  RECLAUtBO.  149 

A.11  things  proclaim  It  needful ;  some  advance 

3r)e  precious  step  beyond,  and  prove  it  sure. 

A.  thousaod  arguments  swarm  round  my  pen, 

From  heav'n,  and  earth,  and  man.     Indulge  a  few, 

By  nature,  as  her  common  habit,  worn  ; 

?o  pressing  Providence  a  truth  to  tench, 

Which  truth  untaught,  all  other  truths  were  vain. 

Thoi'  !  whose  all-providential  eye  surveys, 
tVhose  hand  directs,  whose  Spirit  fills  and  warms 
Creation,  and  holds  empire  far  beyond  ! 
Eternity's  Inhabitant  august  I 
Df  two  eternities  amazing  Lord  I 
Dne  past,  ere  man's,  or  angel's  had  begun  : 
Aid  !  while  I  rescue  from  the  foe's  assault 
rhy  glorious  immortality  in  man  : 
^.  theme  for  ever,  and  for  al),  of  weight, 
3fraomeut  infinite  I  but  relish'd  most 
8y  those  v,ho  love  thee  most,  who  most  adore- 

Nature,  thf  daughter,  ever-changing  birth 
3f  thee  the  great  Immutable,  toman 
peaks  wisdom  ;  is  his  oracle  supreme  ; 
A.nd  he  who  most  consults  her,  is  most  wise. 
Liorenzo,  to  this  heav'uly  Delphos  hagte  ; 
ind  come  back  all  immortal  ;  all  divine; 
Look  Nature  thro',  His  revolution  all  ; 
K]]  change,  no  ieath.  Day  follows  nidit,  and  night 
The  dying  day;  stars  rise,  and  s«t,  and  rise; 
3arth  takes  th'  example.    See  the  Summer  gay, 
IVith  her  green  chaplet,  and  ambrosial  flowVs, 
)roops  into  pallid  Autumn  :  Winter  grey, 
lorrid  with  frost,  aud  turbulent  with  storu), 
31ows  autuan  and  his  golden  fruit  away  ; 


ei^. 


150  '  THE   COMPLAINT. 

Then  melts  into  the  Spring  :  Soft  Spring,  withbreatk 
Favonian,  from  warm  chambers  of  the  south, 
Recalls  the  first.     All,  to  reflourish,  fades; 
As  in  aAvheel,  all  sink?,  to  re-ascend, 
Emblems  of  3Ian,  who  passes,  not  expires. 

With  thi?  minute  ni>tJnction,  emblems  just, 
Kature  revolves,  but  oian  advances;  both 
Eternal,  that  a  circle,  this  a  line  ; 
That  ii;ravitate«,  this  soars.     Th'  aspiring  soul 
Ardent  and  tremulous,  like  flame,  ascends  ; 
Zeal,  and  humility,  ker  wings  to  Heav'n. 
The  world  of  matter,  with  its  variou!?  forms, 
All  dies  into  new  life.    Life  born  from  Death 
Rolls  the  vast  mass,  and  shall  for  ever  roll. 
No  single  atom,  once  in  being,  lost, 
"With  change  of  couiisel  charges  the  Most  Higkc 

What  hence  infers  Lorenzo  ?  Can  it  be  ? 
Matter  immortal  ?  And  shall  spirit  die  ? 
Above  the  nobler,  shall  less  noble  rise? 
Shall  man  alone,  for  whom  all  else  revives, 
No  resurrection  know?  Shall  man  alone. 
Imperial  man  !  be  sown  in  barren  ground. 
Less  privileged  than  grain,  on  which  he  feeds? 
Is  man,  in  whom  alone  is  pow'r  to  prize 
The  bliss  of  being,  or  with  previous  paia 
Deplore  its  period,  by  the  spleen  of  Fate, 
Severely  dooni'd  Death's  single  unredeem'd  ? 

If  Nature's  revolution  speaks  aloud. 
In  her  gradation,  bear  her  louder  stilJ. 
Look  Nature  thro',  'tis  neat  gradation  all. 
By  what  minute  degrees  her  scale  ascends ! 
Each  middle  Nature  join'd  at  each  extreme, 


THE  INFIDEL  EECLA.IMED.       151 

To  that  above  it  join'd,  to  that  beneath, 
Parts,  into  parts  reciprocally  shot. 
Abhor  divorce  =  "VViiat  love  of  union  reigns  ! 
Here,  dormant  matter  waits  a  call  to  life  ; 
Half-life,  half-death,  join  there;  here,  life  and  5ense ; 
There,  sense  from  reason  steals  a  glimm'ring  ray  ; 
Reason  shines  eut  in  man.     But  how  preserved 
The  chain  unbroken  upward  to  the  realms 
Of  incorporeal  life  ?  those  realms  of  bliss 
"Where  death  had  no  dominion  ?  Grant  a  make 
Half-mortal,  half-immortal;  earthly,  part; 
And  part  ethereal  ;  grant  the  soul  of  man 
Eternal  ;  or  in  man  the  series  ends. 
Wide  yawns  the  gap  ;  connection  is  no  roore  ; 
CheckM  Reason  halts  ;  her  next  step  wants  support; 
f^triving  to  climb,  she  tumbles  from  her  scheme ; 
A  scheme  Analogy  pronouac'd  so  true; 
Analogy,  man's  surest  guide  below. 

Thus  far,  all  Nature  calls  on  thy  belief. 
And  will  Lorenzo,  careless  of  the  call. 
False  attestation  on  all  nature  charge. 
Rather  than  violate  his  league  with  Death  ? 
Renounce  his  reason,  rather  than  renounce 
The  dust  belov'd,  and  run  the  risk  of  Heav'n? 
O  what  indignity  to  deathJc?s  sou!?  I 
"What  treason  to  the  majesty  of  man! 
Of  man  immortal  I  Hear  the  lofty  style  : 
•'  If  so  decreed,  th'  Almighty  Will  be  done. 
"  Liel  earth  dissolve,  yon  ponderous  orbs  descend, 

A.nd  grind  us  into  dust.     The  soul  is  safe ; 
*  The  man  emerges;  mounts  above  the  wreck, 
'  As  tow'f  Jng  flame  from  Nature's  fun'ral  pyre 


152  tHE  COMPLAINT. 

"  O'er  devastation,  as  a  gainer  smiles  j 

**  His  charter,  his  inviolable  rights, 

•'  AVeli  pleas'd  to  learn  from  Thunder's  impotence, 

"  Death's  pointless  darts^and  Hell's  defeated  storms.'* 

But  these  chimeras  touch  not  thee,  Lorenzo  I 
The  glories  of  the  world,  thy  sev'nfold  shield. 
Other  ambition  than  of  crowns  in  air, 
And  superlunary  felicities. 
Thy  bosom  warm.    I'll  cool  it,  if  I  can ; 
And  turn  those  glories  that  enchant,  against  ihee. 
What  ties  thee  to  this  life,  proclaims  the  next. 
If  wise,  the  cause  that  wounds  thee  is  thy  cure. 

Come,  my  ambitious  !  let  us  mount  together 
(To  mount  Lorenzo  never  can  refuse  ;) 
And  from  the  clouds,  where  pride  delights  to  dwelF^ 
Look  down  on  earth — Whatseest  thou?  Wond'rous 

things  ! 
Terrestrial  wonders,  that  eclipse  the  skies. 
What  lengths  of  labour'd  lands  !  what  loaded  seas! 
Loaded,  by  man,  for  pleasure,  wealth,  or  war  I 
Seas,  winds,  and  planets,  into  service  brought, 
His  art  acknowledge,  and  promote  his  ends. 
Nor  can  th'  eternal  rocks  his  will  withstand  ;  I  ^' 

What  levell'd  mountains;  And  what  lifted  vales?    ^ 
O'er  vales  and  mountain?  sumptuous  cities  swell, 
And  gild  our  landscape  with  their  glitt'ring  spire! 
Some  mid  the  wond'ring  waves  majestic  rise ; 
And  Neptune  holds  a  mirror  to  then-  charms. 
Far  greater  still  I  (v»-hat  cannot  mortal  might  ?) 
See  wide  dominions  ravish'd  from  the  deep  ; 
Tlie  narrow'd  deep  with  indignation  foams.  j 

Or  southward  turn,  to  delicate,  and  grand  j 
The  finer  arts  there  ripen  in  the  sun. 


THE    IFIDEL    RECLAIMED.  153 

How  the  taU  temples,  as  to  meet  their  gods, 
Ascend  the  skies  !  the  proud  triumphal  arch 
Shews  us  half  Heav'n  beneath  its  ample  bend. 
High  thro'  mid  air,  here,  streams  are  taught  to  flow  r 
Whole  rivers,  there,  laid  by  in  basons,  sleep. 
Here,  plains  turn  ocean's;  there,  vast  oceans  join 
Thro'  kingdoms  channelM  deep  from  shore  to  shore, 
And  chang'd  Creation  takes  its  face  from  man. 
Beats  thy  brave  breast  for  formidable  scenes. 
Where  fame  and  empire  wait  upon  the  sword  ? 
See  fields  in  blood  ;  hear  naval  thunders  rise ; 
Britannia's  voice!  that  awes  the  world  to  peace.. 
How  yon  enormous  mole  projecting  breaks 
The  mid-sea,  furious  waves  I  their  roar  anaidat. 
Out-speaks  the  Deity,  and  says,  "  O  main! 
"  Thus  far,  not  farther:  new  restraints  obey." 
Earth's  disembowe I'd  1  measur'd  are  the  skies! 
Stars  are  detected  in  their  deep  recess  ! 
Creation  widens!  vanquish'd  nature  yields! 
Her  secrets  are  extorted  !  Art  prevails  I 
What  monument  of  genius,  spirit,  pow'r! 

And  now,  Lorenzo,  rapturM  at  this  scene, 
Whose  glories  render  Heav'n  superfluous  I  say, 
Whose  footsteps  these  ?  Immortals  have  been  hert. 
Could  less  than  souls  immortal  this  have  done  ? 
Earth's  cover'd  o'er  with  proofs  of  souls  immortal , 
And  proofs  of  immortality  forgot. 

To  flatter  thy  grand  foible,  I  confess, 
These  are  Ambition's  works :  and  these  arc  great; 
But  this  the  least  immortal  souls  can  do  : 
Transcend  them  all. — But  what  can  these  transcend? 
Post  ask  me,  what  ?— One  sigh  fur  the  dJJtreft. 

Vol.  r.  H 


154  THE    INFIDEL    RECLAIMED. 

What  then  for  infidels?  A  deeper  sigh. 

'Tis  raoral  grandeur  makes  the  mighty  man  : 

How  little  they,  who  think  aught  great  below ! 

All  our  ambitions  Death  defeats,  but  one ; 

And  that  it  crowns. — Here  cease  we  :  But,  ere  long, 

>Iore  pow'rful  proof  shall  take  the  field  against  thee, 

Stronger  than  Death,  and  smiling  at  the  torab- 


SKD   0¥   VOL    T 


i 


i|i!i!pifi'flf''| 

B     000  004  671     4 


I 


i  rublished,  and  for  Sale  by 

%  RICH  A.RI>  SCOTT, 

%  At  his  Boole  and Station&i-y  Store,  2TG  Pcaf 
5TlieC>r         ■         .f  Consideration,  or  a. tlj 

V  vvhei'  lure,  usefuUness  and  absj 

V  ce:,S!iy  oi  con:  ulero*.Ion  in  order  to  a  t 
■'.•      rious  and  religious  lite  is  laid  open,  by 

V  IIorneGk,  :D.  D. 

t  Cii11«!rcjiorthe  Abbey,  with  plates,  o  vo\ 
t  Tie  Rules  and  Exercises  of  Holy  Dying, 
t  c.-e  descri  led  die  means  and  instrument 
Ji  paring  ourselves  and  others  respective 
J  blessed  death,  by  Jereniiiih  Taylor, 
^  Retlcctions  (or  every  t!ay  in  the  year,  on.tl 
^  of  God,  and  of  his  providence  Ihroughou 
-^-     Jure,  by  C.  G.  Stnrm,  .        2-  vol 

fj  A.  i.ierious  Call,  to  a  devou'  and  holy  life, 
X  U>  the  statfl  and  conditiTJ  of  uil  orders 
V'      tians,  by  William  Iraw, 

X  A  .'-prinj;  Day,  or  Coiiteaiphitions  on  sev(| 
't      ^ii-rcnoes,  which  naturally  strike  the  eye| 
•  leii^^htful  seasoti    '■  ■  .:s  Fisher, 

le  iS'on-Sndi  Fr<  '■-  njeridian  sple 

the  singular  actions  u;  iiruictilied  christi 
the  Rev.  William  Seeker, 
dgment  and   Mercy  for  afilictcd  souls,  c| 
-dtions,    soliloquies    and    prayer?,    by    j 
'Anarles,         ... 
\  'j    j.uiioirs  of  the  Life  ami  iMinistry  of  the  !a| 
I  ,•       i'homa,^  Spencer  of  Liverpool, 
:  i  /.he  Family  Instructor,  in  three  parts,  relat] 
'  !fi       *  1. .  To  Parents  and  Children, 
; .--          ,.      To  Masters  and  Servautd, 
'  -'.      .d.      To  Huhbandsaad  Wives, 
;>;,  by  PDodridt.e,  D.  D.  .*     . 

;  -:|J  A   Practical  Discourse  concerning  death, 
'h      liamSiieriock,  D.  Xi. 
\  j!C  T^he  Cristian  Remen.brance.r,  or  short  reJj 
;-f     x\v'u\   the   Faith,  Life  and   Conduct  oCj 
!  ''i      Chrisijan.  •  • 


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